Fortune's Fool
by Polly
Summary: As Jason struggles to come to terms with his family's personal demons, a threat to his friend's life will force him down a path he isn't ready to face. Set after season 1 finale.
1. Chapter 1

**Fortune's Fool: Chapter 1**

Standard Disclaimer applies – I don't own them. The BBC does.

This is the sequel to 'The Start of Something'. You could give it a go if you haven't read the first story, by all means, but it may not make much sense in places. I really hope people enjoy this and if you do, please let me know! Thanks.

* * *

"_Good morning_, Pythagoras! What? What's with the look?"

"You're…very cheerful this morning, Hercules."

"_Should_ I not be? Take a look around you, my friend. The sun is shining, the table is spread with a delicious breakfast and I just have a…a _feeling_ in my heart."

"That's probably the pies last night. I'll make you a tonic." Pythagoras began to rise from the table but was halted half-way when Hercules shoved him back down to his seat.

"Pythagoras, my friend, your pessimism wounds me! Can't I just be in a good mood?" He swung one hefty leg over a stool and seated himself next to the young man with an over-exaggerated flourish. A bunch of grapes lay on a wooden plate in front of them and Hercules plucked a handful and popped them in his mouth. Pythagoras eyed him cautiously.

"Generally speaking, not without gambling, wine or women." He risked a smile, however. Whatever the cause and however long it lasted, the optimistic light-heartedness was a welcome relief from the _bear with a sore head_ who usually shared their living space.

"Well, there's something _different_ about today. Speaking of which…" He glanced around the room, taking note of the empty seat opposite. "Are we expecting a visit from His Moodiness, this morning?" He rolled his eyes. "Or are we back to marching him to the table and forcing food down his throat?" And on speaking of food, he tore off a chunk of bread and added it to his plate. Pythagoras sighed.

"He's not _moody_," he objected, quietly. "That's not fair, Hercules. Jason has been perfectly pleasant. He's just been….distracted lately." But even as he spoke, the young genius didn't sound convinced. Hercules waved a dismissive hand in the air and, between mouthfuls, admitted:

"Alright then – he's not been moody, exactly. But you have to admit, these past three weeks, we've hardly seen him and when he does pop up, you can barely get two words out of him! Now I'm not saying the peace and quiet isn't nice once in a while, but it's just not like him."

"I thought you don't get worried," Pythagoras pointed out, a grin on his lips. Hercules rolled his eyes.

"I'm not. But he hasn't even been out for a _drink_ and _that_ is just unhealthy! In fact, he's barely been out of the house."

"Well, the last time he went out, you _did_ yell at him," Pythagoras reasoned, ever the picture of patience. Hercules raised a protesting hand at that.

"I did _not_ yell. _I didn't_! I expressed my opinion with vigour - on his rather stupid, impetuous outing while he was still recuperating. But it wasn't yelling. And in any case, that was three weeks ago."

Pythagoras shrugged. He _wanted_ to defend Jason – he usually did – but even he couldn't feel comfortable with Jason's recent self-imposed isolation. It was as though…he hated to even _think it_…but it was as though they were almost drifting apart. Sometimes, he would catch Jason just _staring_. Not looking at anything in particular, but staring through a wall or the floor or at his hands. He would be about to ask what was wrong, but as soon as Jason spotted him, he'd plaster a smile over his face, shake off any concern and turn the conversation onto other matters as quickly as possible. Pythagoras sighed again. Even then the conversation was limited to about two sentences before Jason begged off, finding an excuse to retreat to another part of the house.

Something seemed to be troubling their strange young friend and Pythagoras hated the thought that, whatever it was, Jason couldn't unburden himself on them. They'd always been open with this sort of thing, hadn't they? He suddenly made up his mind that when Jason emerged for breakfast, he was going to press him a little more forcefully for some details.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hercules asked, "Where is he anyway? Isn't he normally up by now?" Again, Pythagoras shrugged so Hercules continued: "Well is he still in bed?"

"I don't know, Hercules," he replied, rolling his eyes. "I don't actually make a habit of spying on him while he's sleeping."

"It's not _spying_," Hercules protested. Pythagoras raised a meaningful eyebrow. "A quick peek then?" he countered. Hercules was rewarded with an indulgent sigh as Pythagoras pushed himself up from the table.

"I'll glance in," he said. "But don't eat any more of that cheese." He pointed a warning finger at the steadily growing pile on Hercules' plate. "It's Jason's favourite and there needs to be some left or it will be a pretty miserable breakfast." He watched as Hercules obligingly headed towards the bowl of fruit instead.

"If he's still asleep, wake him up!" he shouted after him. "It's going to be too glorious a day to miss."

Absently, Pythagoras nodded to himself. "I shall do, assuming your reverberating yelling hasn't done so already."

Hercules watched his friend disappear, snuck a very small chunk of cheese (there still being plenty left for Jason) but had only got as far as secreting it under his bread when Pythagoras returned, a puzzled look on his face. "He's not there."

Hercules raised an eyebrow, the cheese, momentarily forgotten. "Not there? Are you sure?"

Pythagoras looked annoyed. "Well I suppose he could have been hiding under the bed."

"Alright, keep your shirt on. You aren't always the most observant of people is all I'm saying." He paused a moment. "Well, he's probably gone for a morning walk." There was a hint of doubt in his voice, though.

"Yes," his young friend agreed, reseating himself with an uncertain smile. "It's funny isn't it? You were just saying how he needs to get out more. It's like he read your mind…Now you can stop worrying."

Hercules laughed, perhaps a little too loudly. "Yes! But I don't worry, you understand."

"No."

Pythagoras rolled an olive around his plate. Again and again. It squished so he took another one.

Hercules drummed his fingers on the table-top with a steady _rat-a-tat-tat_.

The two friends caught each other's eyes and nodded and smiled and then almost leapt to their feet when the door suddenly opened and Jason wandered in.

"Oh, breakfast," he remarked. "Is that the cheese I like? Pythagoras, you're a star!"

"Jason!" They chorused.

Jason froze en-route to the table. "I'm sorry," he ventured. "I didn't think to greet the two of you with quite the same enthusiasm. But I really am pleased to see you. It was all in my eyes."

Shaking off the embarrassment, Pythagoras laughed. "Yes, I'd hoped you'd like the cheese. I didn't realise you were out this morning. What time did you leave?"

Jason sat down and pulled a plate from the small pile. "I'm not sure. It was dark." Hercules looked surprised. To be dark in the summer was either incredibly late or painfully early. He passed the plate of cheese and grapes to Jason but just couldn't keep the frown off his forehead. If Jason noticed it though, he didn't comment. Instead, he muttered his thanks and gratefully loaded his plate with a modest amount – enough to fend off pointed remarks from his well-meaning friends.

"Why so early?" Pythagoras, asked, gently. He hadn't seen Jason so animated in a while and was very glad to see it. What with Hercules' fair mood, the morning was shaping up to be an auspicious one. Jason shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Couldn't sleep. I just needed some air." He stopped a second, his face looking concerned. "I didn't mean to worry you guys or anything." Pythagoras laughed and waved away his concern.

"Don't be ridiculous. You know Hercules doesn't worry." They both chuckled, having experienced plenty of evidence to the contrary while Hercules bore their teasing with a mere roll of the eyes.

"So where'd you go?" Hercules questioned. He placed a slice of bread on Jason's plate.

"I was just wandering really but I ended up down at the harbour. I got a job there."

"At the harbour?" Hercules questioned, incredulously. "What do _you_ know about boats?"

Jason shot him a half-guarded look. "A fair bit," he protested. "My uncle was a captain of his own ship. Only a small one but he had a crew. I grew up going out on it. Well, when I wasn't getting in the way." Pythagoras made no comment but he secretly devoured up the scraps of information Jason was offering. He'd never heard him be so forthcoming about his childhood or family or…well, _anything_ from his past. It was as though Jason had sprung fully grown from the earth.

"But anyway," he continued, "it's got nothing to do with sailing the ships. I was just sitting on the wall, watching the ships get ready for the morning tide when I noticed that some ropes tying these crates together was about to snap while these men were loading it on to the ship. I jumped in and secured the crates before they fell. The harbour master said I had a good eye and quick reactions and he wants me to help keep an eye on the docks."

"What kind of an eye?" Pythagoras wondered.

Jason appeared non-plussed. "Spot trouble-makers, thieves – that sort of thing. Especially when most of the ships seem to arrive and leave at the same time."

Hercules nodded. "When do you get paid?"

"Hercules!"

"What? I'm not prying, Pythagoras." But Jason just smiled.

"The end of the day. I've got to head back there at midday. That's when the next round of ships are expected." He looked at his friends, expectantly, trying to gauge their reactions. Pythagoras appeared outwardly pleased though Jason couldn't help but feel that his friend was holding something back. Not being able to imagine what it was, though, he pushed the thought aside. Hercules, on the other hand, was much easier to read. A welcoming smile was spread across his face.

"Splendid!" he exclaimed. "_You_ get some fresh air for a change, _the docks_ are a safer place and _we all_ get a nice, regular income." He clapped Jason on the shoulder. Jason tried not to wince. "All in all," Hercules said, "a good morning's work."

Weakly, Jason nodded, trying not to let his eyes water at the pain that now spread across his shoulders. After days of their outright nagging and later, their furtive glances, Jason was finally glad to be free from scrutiny and was reluctant to admit to the lingering pain in his muscles or the weariness that sometimes washed over him when he had over-exerted himself.

"Quite," Pythagoras agreed, smiling as he suddenly joined in. "As long as you're sure you feel up to it."

"I feel fine," Jason insisted, giving his friend a reassuring smile. He yawned. "But, I think I might lie down for a bit before I head out again." He looked a little sheepish. "I guess the early morning's catching up with me." And so, taking one last gulp of water, he headed off to his bed.

* * *

As a rule, Pasiphae liked to be prepared. Fruit, fresh from the orchards that very morning, were piled high in the bowl on the little table: apples, pears and figs – Minos' favourites. Pasiphae had made sure of that. Sweet, red wine filled the carafes – sweet wine to sweeten the mood. And wafting in the air, the fragrant notes of jasmine and frankincense. The only thing Pasiphae could not prepare, was her husband.

"But…that's not possible." His forehead creased in confusion. Pasiphae looked at him, patiently. This would not be an easy conversation to have, but have it they must. The time had come. Her scheming mind had run through a thousand possibilities of broaching the topic, of introducing such a potentially dangerous subject. However, in the end, she had decided to go with honesty. It was a card she rarely played and today, Pasiphae prayed that a change of approach would weigh in her favour.

"As I, too believed when I first heard this, Minos. But it is."

"The _boy_?"

She nodded. "Jason."

"The one who slew the Earth Bull?" He thought for a moment. "The one who fought in the pankration?" Minos' expression warred constantly between outrage and shock. Pasiphae tried not to hold her breath but it was very difficult: Minos' reaction could spell the end for both her _and_ her son. His voice became quieter: "Does…does Ariadne know?"

So he _has_ noticed? Pasiphae almost smirked. "No," she answered. The girl's reaction would be one that she savoured and found herself looking forward to with almost feverish anticipation.

Minos sat back in his chair and regarded his wife. Though the conversation appeared honest, he could not help but reel at the events. "Why are you only just telling me?" he demanded, "if you discovered the truth these months past?" Suspicion screamed from his accusatory tone. She had been expecting it and only hoped her words would not fail her.

"It was a trying time," she pointed out, as carefully as she could. The hunt for his daughter was generally not a topic she willingly made reference to. "Jason had taken shelter with Aeson although he had no idea who he was. There were many convergences of Fate that day and…" she hesitated, "and I also needed time to face the truth. To…admit the reality to myself." Minos latched on to the sincerity of her words, to the waver in her voice. It irritated her that her weakness appeared to be her saving grace but if it worked in her favour…

The hardness in his eyes, mellowed. "So why tell me now?" his voice had softened though the anger, the suspicion remained. Pasiphae raised distant eyes to meet his:

"When Jason did not know the truth, when the burden was mine to bear alone, I was content to keep my silence. The truth would not be revealed when I alone held its key."

"But now the boy knows," Minos finished. "It's less likely this will remain concealed for long." A flash of fear crossed his face. Pasiphae almost winced to see it: _fear_, they must avoid. Fear would cause him to act hastily, rashly and with brutality. She had seen it before. One did not usurp a throne without the instinct to dispose of any in your way. No, she decided. She must allay this fear.

"What do you suppose he will do?" Minos asked her.

Pasiphae moved from where she sat, opposite her husband, to perch next to him. She took a chance by gently gathering his hands into hers, praying he would not reject her touch: after all, admitting your son was a rival to your husband's throne, whether that was your fault or not, was dangerously close to betrayal. To treason. Many in Atlantis had been executed for less and her own position was far from secure.

"Jason has no designs to embrace his destiny," she assured him. She let out a bitter laugh. "In fact, he does not wish to see me at all." Minos felt sympathy stir his heart at the pain he clearly saw on his wife's face. For the first time since she had confessed the true identity of the mysterious young man, he began to imagine this from her point of view.

"When Aeson took him," she continued, "he took pains to erase me from my son's life – in name, in memory, in every way. Jason is confused and he is hurting." She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Do not worry about the boy. I fear he wishes nothing to do with me, or his father or with his heritage."

Minos gripped her hands. "I am finding it difficult to believe that he is alive, after all these years. And then I consider how this must be for you. I watched you _grieve_ for him when you thought the child had died. I held you in my arms at night as you wept for him."

"I know."

"May the gods _damn_, Aeson!" he suddenly exclaimed. "If he comes _near_ my city – if he makes any designs on the throne…"

The queen scoffed. "Pay no mind to Aeson. He is as impotent now as he was back then." She watched her husband's lips curl in to a smile and for a second, enjoyed being joined in purpose. "In any event, he has given me assurances that he wants no part of his old life and, what little else I may think of him, I hold his trust in that. Besides," she added, "he loves the boy. He would not put him in such danger. He knows what that would mean for him and he wishes him to have no part in his heritage or even in Atlantis."

Minos nodded, thoughtfully. He no longer seemed angry but nor was the battle won. However, Pasiphae allowed herself to believe that the worst of the danger had passed.

"My lord, you ask me why I tell you now. In all honesty, I do not have an answer for you. I only wish…."

"You want to know your son." Minos afforded her a small, sad smile. "You are a mother, granted a miracle by the Gods. I cannot begrudge you your emotions." He sighed, wearily, feeling a heavy weight on his shoulders. It was at times like these when his illness seemed to play on his nerves more plainly. "Until such time as the boy is ready to accept his true identity, none may know of this. Especially Ariadne."

Pasiphae nodded. "I imagine, he will tell his friends," she pointed out. Minos had to think for a moment.

"The ones who leapt the bulls with him?" His wife nodded, once more. "They are clearly loyal to each other. Do they seem…trustworthy?"

Pasiphae considered the two men his son counted amongst his closest friends. However lowly she considered them, she could not deny the bond they shared with her son and how they had carefully nursed him back to health. And if she were honest with herself, Pasiphae would be glad when Jason confessed to them if he had not already done so: it was the first step towards acceptance. "I believe, so. They would do nothing to betray each other." Though what secrets the fat one would divulge after a night of drinking, she almost shuddered to think.

"It would be," Minos began slowly, weighing his words, "_foolish_ of me to ignore who Jason is." Pasiphae fought to keep her composure though she could not help but widen her eyes in surprise at the turn of his thoughts. She _would not_ lead. She would not. Minos must arrive there himself or he would not remain convinced.

The king saw her surprise. "Jason is _your_ son," he said. "He _is _of royal blood and I shall not deny his heritage – it would be an insult to both you _and_ I." He suddenly rose from his seat and turned to face her. Pasiphae remained seated – unthreatening, un-opposing.

"_However_," he insisted, his voice hardening, his expression darker and resolute, "an heir to the throne, is yet to be seen. He has clearly not been raised a Greek. His understanding of our ways and customs, of his own _heritage_…" He shook his head, almost in anger. "Aeson may at _least_ have let him be raised in his own country! But the fact remains that though he may be of honourable intentions and noble birth, he has been raised as a boy of little consequence, amongst the lowest of stations."

Pasiphae tried not to flinch. It was true but hearing it from her husband affected her more than she thought it would. The shame of her son's situation was something she longed to rectify, if only he would let her. Or even if he did not, surely as both his queen _and_ his mother… Her thoughts began to wander and she forced them back to the present. Minos was still speaking, rationalising. It was his process of accepting and of coming to terms.

"The boy lacks an _education_. He must undergo the appropriate customs of the land, of his station. He must have fulfilled the appropriate civic rituals. He must be tutored in the art of being a prince of Atlantis and all that this responsibility entails. In short, he needs a little more…" Minos struggled for a moment, to find the appropriate word. "_Raising_," he finally finished, throwing one hand into the air. The queen almost smiled. Even now, Minos began to sound the frustrated father whether he realised it or not.

"It is as you say, Minos," Pasiphae agreed. "If Jason is willing to learn."

Minos suddenly seemed to notice the goblets of wine and gladly took one up and sipped its sweet contents. A look of pleased contentment washed over his taut features, sapping some of the tension from his brow. He paused and smiled, raising an eyebrow at his wife as if aware of her subtle manipulations. Wordlessly, he poured a second cup and handed it to his wife who accepted it with a hint of surprise. For Minos to serve her anything was almost unheard of.

"I will admit," Minos began quietly, reseating himself next to her, "that if Jason were to prove…suitable, it would be a welcome solution to my problems both with the throne and with," he could not keep the hesitation out of his voice. "With Ariadne." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, I have seen his devotion to her and I can admit that my daughter has been _drawn_ towards him." He glanced down at his lap. It was not an easy thought to voice. "I dearly wish for my daughter to be happy and if this boy can do it then I would see it done."

He looked into his wife's eyes. "I make no promises. Jason has work to do. But he can be…_moulded_, can he not? He is young and needs guidance, teaching. I will give him that chance…should he wish it." And Pasiphae smiled and leaned in to kiss him gently.

"Thank you, Minos."

* * *

That's it for now. I'd love to hear what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fortune's Fool: Chapter 2**

Standard disclaimer still applies since the last chapter. If you've made it on to chapter 2, then thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy the next part! I should warn people that this is something of a slow-burner and that may not be everyone's cup of tea.

* * *

It had been three days since Jason had been given the job at the harbour and it was proving to be a fortunate arrangement. The work was not too boring. It kept him alert, gave him good exercise and meant he was able to take home a respectable wage at the end of each day. On his way home, he had started dropping in to the agora to pick up supplies for dinner or a skein of wine. That pleased Hercules no end. He could tell Pythagoras missed his company during the day but even he had started investigating his mathematical theories again and regaling them all with it in the evening. It was good, seeing his friend so animated. It almost made him feel more fondly about his Maths A-level lessons. Though not by much.

So far, the morning had been fairly slow. He'd caught a few light-fingered opportunists who tried to take advantage of an open crate or a turned back but he never had the heart to report them – usually, once they saw they'd been caught, they dropped the item in question and darted off. Jason only chased the ones who didn't back down. He'd broken up a skirmish between an angry merchant and a ship's captain which had proved a little more eventful but aside from that, the day was yet to wake up.

Jason smiled as he stretched his legs out in front of him from where he sat, on a small wooden tower on the quay, over-looking the docks. The sun was warming but not sweltering though as midday approached, he knew that wouldn't last for long. As the ships came and went, Jason listened to the shouts and commands of the captains and their crew: making ready to sail, unloading barrels of fruit and spices and rolling them along the ground, berthing the ships. It reminded Jason of his uncle Mac's ship and the days he would spend in his summer holidays, watching the bustling activity of the harbour. Absently, he found himself whistling an Otis Redding song and then stopped, the notes sounding jarringly incongruous given his circumstances. It made him ache a little for home – he missed his music.

And just like that, his thoughts swerved onto a dangerous path. Jason clenched his hands into fists as a sharp, painful pang struck him square in the chest. _Damn it!_ This was precisely why he had taken the job in the first place: to keep his mind from wandering too loosely; to stop him from obsessing about the conversation he had shared with Queen Pasiphae. He had already spent night after sleepless night letting the shards of truth stab at him and a myriad of emotions try to drown him. Finally, he knew he couldn't take it any more, knew he'd go insane if he didn't find a distraction. That's when he had taken his walk and Fortune appeared to smile upon him.

And now, despite his best efforts, he found himself slipping back into bad habits. Pasiphae. Tychon. No, he reminded himself – _Aeson_. Dad. Jason struggled to pull to mind any shadow of a memory he could find from his earliest childhood. Did he remember a face? A voice? Or did he just imagine he did? He'd been so young when his father had left him. _Abandoned him_. Jason knew he had often looked at his own, maturing face and wondered if he looked like his father or his mother. He had found himself scanning his uncle's features, trying to use them as a template on which to hang his own father's visage.

He laughed. What a futile exercise that turned out to be. Pasiphae had sworn neither she nor Aeson had ever had a brother and though it was possible she tried to deceive him, Jason sensed that she wasn't. Whoever Mac had been, however much he had loved Jason and cared for him like a son, he was still just another lie when all was said and done.

Another lie. His life was _built_ on lies. Sickness twisted his stomach and, for a second, he screwed his eyes shut tight until he could push the sensation away. He thought again of the silver mines. A day's journey and he may have more answers. May finally have his father. That was another reason for the job – it made him less likely to set off on a spur-of-the-moment venture. The young man knew himself well enough to know he was prone to those. And in his present mind set, Jason wasn't even sure he was _ready_ to talk to Aeson even though his heart was begging him to.

No, Jason decided. He needed more self-control first, more of a handle on his own emotions. He had so many questions, so many accusations. Sometimes he couldn't distinguish between the two. He wanted to have a reasoned, helpful, honest conversation: not an out-pouring of emotion.

"Focus," he muttered, quietly to himself. "Get a grip." Jason forced himself to observe the docks. What was happening right now, right in front of him? _Focus_. A merchant in purple robes was paying his ship's captain by the stern of his vessel. A sleek, beautiful boat, with the name _Chiron_, painted across its side was just setting sail. An old man shuffled along the stone quay, apparently heading towards one of the wooden-boarded wharfs. Something about him made Jason stop and then fix on him for a moment longer.

There was something unusual about the way he shuffled forwards, hesitantly, as though crippled. It took Jason another second to realise he was blind. An uneasy feeling settled over him as he scanned the many obstacles on the quay and the wet, slippery patches of stone. Was there anyone to help him? Yes. A moment later, Jason saw the man turn his head and speak to younger man beside him. The younger man rolled his eyes, safe that his gesture would go unnoticed, but he held out his arm, and guided the old man's hand to his elbow, steering him round a safe path.

Jason sighed and relaxed. For just a fraction of a second as it turned out. The old man's companion was about as trustworthy as…well, his own mother. Jason watched the man slip one hand into the leather travelling bag that the old man had slung about his neck. He withdrew a small pouch and carefully slipped it into his own bag. Immediately, Jason sprung from his tower, turning neatly mid-air until he landed, gracefully on the ground a few feet in front of them.

Hearing his landing, the blind man stopped, a question on his features. His companion's face first registered surprise and then, as Jason stood from his crouched landing, anger took over. "That doesn't belong to you," Jason said, his voice quiet but hard.

"Philip?" The old man turned to his guide. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry sir," Jason told him. "But your friend has taken something from your bag."

The man glowered at Jason. "I don't know what you're talking about. Tyrian, the man is talking nonsense." However, Jason merely took a hold of his bag, trapping and twisting back the fist which had moved to strike him, and withdrew the stolen item. The man grunted in pain as his wrist was still yanked backwards. Jason released him with a shove. Then he gently placed the pouch into the old man's hands. The man's cloudy eyes widened in surprise as he felt the familiar item and then he frowned.

Seeing his lot was up, the young man spat on the dock before turning and sprinting off. "Hey!" Jason called and prepared to run after him but, sensing where his intentions lay, the old man shook his head and held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't bother, son. Please. This happens more than I care to think about but it's a hazard of my condition."

"It shouldn't _have_ to be," Jason growled. The ill-treatment of the vulnerable was never going to be something he would ever get used to. It angered him like little else did. But the man gave a small, sad sigh and shook his head once more.

"Please," he implored, "to have him prosecuted would bring me more trouble than a bag of coins is worth. Though," he sighed heavily, "Philip's departure could not have come at a more inconvenient time."

"Why?"

"I must sail to Athens immediately. I have received word that my daughter is gravely ill. If I do not make sail today, it may be too late for me to see her, one last time." He hung his head. "As untrustworthy as he was, Philip would have at least seen me as far as the port of Athens."

Jason's heart wrenched for the man and his broken, piteous spirit. "You've got a boat waiting?"

The man, Tyrian, nodded. "I've been assured that it is waiting for me. Third wharf on the left. My passage is already paid, as is…_was_, my companion's." Jason counted the wharfs along.

"It is," he confirmed. It was a larger vessel, fast and fully-crewed. Passage could not have been cheap. He watched the captain shouting orders to the crew, making ready the sail, raising the oars and giving orders to prepare for launch. There wasn't much time.

"Hold on!" Jason called to the captain. "You've got a passenger!" The captain looked up from deck and cast a brief, impatient look across at the old man who, having already seen Jason in his tower, he assumed was the intended passenger. He summed up the man's condition quickly enough.

"We're setting off now," he called back. "And neither I nor my crew have time to play nursemaid to a blind man." That riled Jason but he didn't challenge him.

"He's got help," Jason called back. "Now will you let him onboard?" The captain sighed, heavily. He clearly was thinking better than having a burdensome passenger on his ship. Seeing this, Jason added: "He's already paid. If you want to refund him his money, you'll have to delay your departure and come and sort it out." The captain scowled.

"Fine!" he shouted back. "But we're leaving now. If you aren't on board when this ship pushes off then you'll have to swim along behind!"

Jason grinned and turned to the old man. "Come on," he urged, gently taking the man by the elbow. But the man resisted.

"You'll come with me?" he questioned, uncertainly.

Jason shrugged. "I'm kind of the one that sent your hired help away. It's the least I can do, to get you to the port." Shouts and whistles drew his attention back to the boat. Moorings were being untied. "Come on," he said again. "They're casting off." The man did not resist this time.

"Thank you, son," he said, gratefully, allowing Jason to lead him on to the gangplank of the waiting boat. The captain spared them a quick glance as they passed him.

"Alright!" he called. "We're away!"

The boat shuddered as it was pushed away from the wharf and Jason planted his feet more securely, supporting both he and Tyrian. The crew were all business, all set on their tasks. Jason remembered the ordered chaos of a ship's running though usually from the viewpoint of being the nephew of the captain, getting in people's way. But one member had enough time to point them to a small area below deck. Jason was expecting to be sharing the crew's sleeping area but instead they were shown to a tiny cabin. Perhaps the man was wealthier than he had first assumed. The cabin was barely large enough for one man to turn around in but it housed a narrow bunk against one wall and a fixture against the wall allowed for a lantern to be hung.

Clearly, this would be for the old man. He had no objections to finding a place to sleep in the crew's section. He guided Tyrian to the bunk and the old man gratefully sank down on to it. "Thank you. I don't know your name, lad."

"It's Jason."

"You're a good man, Jason. You work on the docks?" Jason sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the bed and stretching his legs out as far as they would reach in front of him.

"Kind of. I look out for trouble – that kind of thing."

"Well there aren't many men who would give up so much of their time to help a stranger. I'm more grateful than you can imagine." Jason smiled and shook his head.

"Honestly, it's no problem." Then he seemed to register something. "So, uh, Athens. Is that far from here?" He'd been trying to remember where the legendary lost continent of Atlantis was supposed to have been but he couldn't. Geography hadn't been his strongest subject in school.

"This galley is the fastest on the waters," the man boasted proudly, almost as if he had built it. "A full crew on the oars and enough to change the watch so we need not stop at nightfall. We should make Athens by noon tomorrow, perhaps even a few hours earlier."

"_Tomorrow_?" Jason grimaced. It was far too late to back out now and in any event, he wouldn't have left the man stranded. But he might at least have sent a message to his friends. They were going to be pissed. Well, Hercules would. Pythagoras would just make him feel guilty even if he didn't mean to. But both of them had had more than enough of his sudden disappearing acts. He wondered if he could pick them up a souvenir from Athens to ease his return. For a second, he imagined bringing home a cheap and gaudy t-shirt from a gift shop and it brought a smile to his lips.

"Now, Jason," his companion said, his own smile playing on his lips, "why don't you tell me about yourself? I can tell by your voice – you have an interesting story to tell."

Jason grinned. "Just by my voice?"

"Oh, trust me. I can tell these things. Now, you tell me your story and I shall tell you mine."

So, Jason did what he did best. He focused on the present and made the best of it.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Chapter 3 coming soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fortune's Fool: Chapter 3**

Standard disclaimer still applies – I still don't own any of them.

Thank you for the reviews and encouragement so far and I have to say a *huge* thank you to _Yassandra_ who has patiently nagged and encouraged me to post this story and whose conversations have really helped to propel it along!

I hope people enjoy the next chapter. If you are reading it, please drop me a little note to say what you think – I really appreciate the feedback!

* * *

Jason had run the gauntlet of several stages of exhaustion by the time his boat docked back in the port of Atlantis. He'd gone through sleepy, to cranky, to the bizarre hyperactivity stage and now he was heading towards the 'about to drop where he stood' phase.

Not that the voyage hadn't been interesting. Tyrian had been a fascinating companion. Jason had never had grandparents when growing up and had always enjoyed stories from the elderly. Of course, now he had a better, although bitter understanding of _why_ he lacked any grandparents. But that wasn't to be thought about. They had reached Athens around mid-morning, the ship having sailed through the night and the waves and winds being very favourable: Poseidon's good grace, he'd heard the sailors say.

Tyrian had been so eager to talk during the voyage – Jason got the impression that, with his daughter and her family living in Athens, the old man was often starved for company. And so Jason had obliged his request, forgoing sleep. When they arrived at the port of Athens, Tyrian's gratitude had been touching. He worried, repeatedly, at the loss of Jason's time and insisted on giving him a gold coin to pay for it, despite Jason's protests.

So, after seeing him to a reliable guide to get him to his daughter, they parted company. Fortune had it that a merchant vessel, far less grand than their previous ship but no less convenient, was leaving Athens, bound for Atlantis and Jason was able to gain passage on it. He'd tried to sleep on the return journey but the odd snippets of sleep that he caught, in-between heaving seas actually made him _more_ tired in the end.

And now, almost two days after setting out, Jason headed home, visualising his bed. His relatively comfortable, sort of soft, but definitely relaxing bed. Possibly a little wine, too. He stumbled forwards a few more steps along the dusty street, a giddy grin spreading over his face and his eyes half-closed. Several people shot him odd looks. Several others darted out of his way as he sleepily staggered too close to them.

However, being drunk with fatigue as he was, it didn't seem long at all, before he was stumbling through his own front door. Hercules was emerging from his room, testing an empty wine skein to see if he couldn't shake just one more drop out of it. Finally, he admitted defeat and dropped it on the table in disgust.

He suddenly glanced up, noticing Jason. "Well look who it is," he remarked. "Nice of you to drop by." Jason stopped where he was, in the doorway and blinked slowly. His foggy brain chugged forwards a couple of gears and he struggled to work out how many days he had actually been gone for.

"Oh," he managed. He leant against the wall, heavily as his legs were threatening to wobble. That wasn't a good image for him.

"Sit down before you fall down, you ninny!" Hercules chided gently, with a roll of his eyes. "I swear, if you fall down there, I'm not carrying you to bed."

Hercules' words managed to propel Jason to a chair. Just as he sank down onto it, Pythagoras wandered in. "Ah, you're back," he announced, a bright smile on his face. "How was it?"

"It?" Jason questioned, uncertainly. His friends each took a seat around the table with him, Pythagoras leaning his forearms on the table top.

"Your journey."

"I don't get it. I was worried you'd be worried. Well," he amended, looking at Pythagoras, "_You'd _be worried and _he'd _be mad."

However, his young friend smiled and waved away his concern. "When you didn't come back that evening, I went down to the docks to look for you. Thought I'd keep you company if you were working late. But the harbour master said he'd seen you board a boat bound for Athens. He said it looked as though you were helping someone."

Jason appeared a little surprised but nodded. "Tyrian. He was blind. Very nice though. Not that being blind meant he _wouldn't _be very nice. I just…I'm very, very tired." He dropped his head to rest on his crossed wrists, on the table top.

"It's alright," Pythagoras assured him. "I know what you meant."

"Glad someone does," Hercules muttered.

"By the way, Jason, I'm afraid the harbour master also said to tell you that you're fired."

Jason dragged his head back up. "Oh."

"Sorry." He shrugged, helplessly. "Maybe you could try talking to him tomorrow?" But the astute young man could tell his audience's attention span was dwindling.

"Oh, well that's charming!" Hercules grumbled from across the table. "First decent wage we've had coming in since you dropped in on our lives and your bleeding heart goes and gets you fired." Pythagoras shot him a meaningful look. One which told him his remarks were not appreciated. Hercules saw it and shrugged, guilelessly.

"Sorry," Jason mumbled, looking abashed. He really hadn't meant to screw things up and he knew how useful the wage had been. But it seemed to be a familiar pattern as far as he was concerned.

"Don't worry about it, Jason," Pythagoras assured him, shooting Hercules one last warning look. "We all did perfectly well before you got the job. _Any one of us _can go out and get the next one."

"Oh, I _suppose so_," Hercules agreed. "But he was still an idiot for throwing away a perfectly good job."

Suddenly, Jason sat up straight, a look of remembrance flashing across his face. "I did get a gold coin. I just remembered: Tyrian insisted I take it." He could see Hercules' eyes light up and immediately felt a little better. He dug his hand into his bag and finally withdrew the large, round gold coin and placed it on the table.

For a moment they all stared at it. Jason could almost imagine the tavern nights that were running through Hercules' mind as the gold gleamed on the table. But it was Pythagoras who spoke first. "Um, Jason. I hate to be the one to say this, but that doesn't look like an Atlantean coin."

"What?"

"Those markings around its rim and the symbol on the front? They're unusual. It's nothing we have here."

Hercules squinted, leaning in closer to inspect it. Jason tried to focus on the markings in question but his vision was more than blurred at the edges by now. Experimentally, Hercules picked up the coin, turned it over in his hands and gave it a quick bite.

"Ah, who cares?" he declared. "It's gold and gold is gold. No-one's going to quibble it."

"Oh, good. So I can have it back then?" Jason wondered.

Pythagoras, though, was still talking, lost in a private train of thought: "But still, there's something very familiar about those markings. I just wish I could remember where I've seen them." Jason yawned so widely that he almost suspected his jaw would break.

"Well," he announced, wearily. "I'm sure it will come to you. It usually does. But I've had it. I'm going to sleep for a couple of years." He swiped up the gold disc and gave one last, sleepy smile to his friends.

"Night, Jason," Pythagoras said, smiling. "Don't worry about the job or anything. We'll get everything sorted." As Jason disappeared into his room, he looked back and saw Hercules give a distracted half wave, his mind presumably on the gold, or on Medusa, or wine. It was sometimes hard to tell.

* * *

Not having the benefit of clocks, Jason wasn't sure for how long he'd slept. He only knew that he woke, a new man. Sunlight streamed in the room, low-hanging and blinding so Jason could only assume it was morning. How many days he'd been out of it, though, he dreaded to think. It didn't _feel_ like too long. He swung his legs out of bed and stood, stretching the kinks out of his back and neck and rotating his stiff shoulders.

He padded, bare-foot into the shared living space and, finding it empty, decided to take the opportunity to sharpen his sword and hunting knife. That always required taking over the table and it was rare, these days, for it not to be covered by a spread of scrolls and mathematical apparatus. Not that he could begrudge Pythagoras his love of triangles and other angle-related interests: if only his A-level maths teacher had shown half the passion for his subject that Pythagoras did, then Jason may have engaged more with the lessons. Still, he'd got a passing grade out of it in the end.

However, no sooner had he arranged the weapons, the whetstone and the polishing cloth on the wooden surface, then the front door burst open and Pythagoras came in, a roll of parchment tucked under one arm. "Morning, Jason!" he greeted. "You're looking much better today." Jason grinned at him.

"I feel it. Thanks. How long was I out for?"

Pythagoras laughed. "It's the next day," he assured him. "We wouldn't have let you sleep much longer, don't worry."

Jason nodded towards the scroll in his friend's hands. "Do you need the table?" he asked, trying not to let his eyes glance down towards his morning's task with a sad, hopeful expression. Really and truly, he could always take this outside to the balcony if he had to. But Pythagoras shook his head.

"No, you carry on. This is just, you know, idle interests." Then he paused. "Actually, Jason, it's to do with that coin you brought back yesterday."

Jason had started to run the stone along the sword's length but he paused a moment. "The coin?"

"Yes. Those symbols have been driving me mad all night," Pythagoras confessed with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Would you mind if I took a look at it again? Maybe took it with me to the archives?" Jason really couldn't see the fascination behind it but it was an innocent request. And in any event, he found it hard to begrudge his friends anything – they'd always been so good to him.

"Sure," he shrugged. "It's by my bed."

"Thanks."

He watched Pythagoras disappear into his room with a small smile and a shake of his head. He loved living with semi-erratic geniuses. They kept everything interesting and had a habit of bringing a new perspective on something you thought you knew everything about. Jason found it refreshing. He turned his attention back to the sword in his hands, slowly but firmly scraping the stone along the edges of the cool steel. The repetitive action was strangely comforting. He glanced up, suddenly, as the front door opened again.

"Ah!" Hercules boomed. "He's awake."

"Morning, Hercules," Jason said, with a small smile.

"Don't thank me."

"I wasn't going to."

"Well you _should_! But don't."

Jason's brow furrowed in confusion as he paused, again, in his task. "Am I missing something?"

Hercules snorted. "_Yes_! A perfectly good job. But not to fear. _I_ have been down to the docks, this morning." Jason's eyes almost widened in horror, seeing where this conversation was heading. _Surely he hadn't_? This was almost as embarrassing as your parents going into school to argue a bad grade or a detention with your teacher. Unaware of the meaning of Jason's pallid expression, Hercules continued. "There was a huge fight at the docks this morning and I'm talking _huge_!" He paused, grinning and gesticulating animatedly. "There were shipping crates thrown into the sea, swords drawn, the clash of cold steel – there were even _body parts_! Well, little ones." He gave a satisfied sigh. "You see? You disappear for a few days and they can't survive without you."

He stalked over to Jason and clapped him on the shoulder. "I _happened_ to see the harbour master, amidst the carnage and the chaos and I _happened_ to mention that you were available _at the right price_, for hire again." He elbowed a still silent Jason in the ribs, causing the young man to hiss in pain. "You start tomorrow." He winked at him and raised his hands. "I know! Don't thank me."

Jason blinked a couple of times. "You _hired me out_?" he demanded. "For bloody chaos and carnage?"

Hercules' grin dimmed a bit. "Well…"

"I can't believe it!"

"What? What's the problem?"

Jason looked incredulous. "It's _embarrassing_!" he exclaimed. "And it feels like you're my manager."

"You see," Hercules countered, though not looking especially upset. "That's the ingratitude of youth for you."

"You _said _not to thank you." Jason muttered, darkly. However, underneath it all, he knew his friend was right. Annoying. Embarrassing. But also right. He had quite enjoyed the job and the extra money always came in handy. He couldn't help but feel like he'd been pimped out, though.

Seeing Jason had come around to the idea, as he had been confident he would, Hercules let the matter drop and was about to move into his own room when he stopped. Pythagoras was standing opposite. He hadn't even noticed his friend enter the room. When Jason saw him, he smiled, glad to have someone to vent to about Hercules' well-intentioned interference.

But what he saw in Pythagoras' hand made him stop dead. Conversely, his heart beat a little faster.

"Jason?" Pythagoras began. "I was trying to find the coin in your room. I hope you don't think I was snooping. It's just, there was rather a pile of things by the bed and I had to sort through it to find what I was looking for…and I came across this."

He held up the oracle's necklace between his thumb and forefinger. Jason just stared at it but Hercules' mouth dropped open and he quickly snatched it out of Pythagoras' hand. "Your necklace!" he exclaimed. "I thought you lost it when you went missing, _weeks_ ago. Where on Earth did you find it?"

"And why have you been hiding it in your room?" Pythagoras asked, quietly. His expression was so kind and concerned and non-judgemental that Jason hung his head in shame. "Jason?" Pythagoras asked in concern. "If you don't want to tell us, that's fine. But you know you can tell us anything, right? I would…"

He paused, weighing up his words. "I would like to think that we can tell each other anything. I don't mean to pry, but I can clearly see that something has been affecting you." He smiled at his friend and took the necklace off Hercules, handing it back to Jason, whose arm moved to accept it, almost automatically. "I wish you felt you could confide in us. We want to help."

Jason wasn't sure when he had sunk down into the wooden bench. But now he just sat, staring at the gleaming metal in his hands, winding the leather straps compulsively round his fingers. He purposefully wound it too tight, felt the blood pump and his fingertips tingle. For so many weeks he had been dreading this moment: the moment of truth when he would have to face what Pasiphae had confided to him at the temple. When he would have to see if his friendship with Pythagoras and Hercules was as strong as he hoped it was. God, if they turned him away, who did he have to turn to in Atlantis?

His mother had a habit of wanting to kill him. His father…well, Jason was still confused on that one. He supposed he could go and join the lepers in the silver mines. Aeson had appeared happy enough to host them. But then he'd seemed happy enough in the 21st century, too and he'd still upped and left him. He apparently had his job back. Perhaps he could rent a room somewhere in the city? But what was a city without his friends? Just bricks and dust.

Across from him, his friends still stood, waiting. Hercules stepped forwards and sat on the bench opposite. "Jason," he said and his voice was quiet, but firm. "What's going on?"

Jason wasn't sure if it was Pythagoras' calm, honest faith in him or Hercules' gentle authority but something inside him broke at that moment and he found the courage to speak. "I got the necklace back," he began, his voice quiet and cracking. "When I went to the Oracle. That time you yelled at me for going out."

"I did _not_ yell…"

But Pythagoras waved Hercules quiet. "The Oracle gave it back to you?" he clarified. "How did she find it?"

"She didn't." His tongue tripped on his next words: "Pasiphae… gave it to me."

A moment of silence followed. A look of confusion masked both of his friends. "_Pasiphae_?" Pythagoras questioned, incredulously. "I don't understand. Why would _she_ have your necklace?"

"And more to the point, why would she be bothering to return it to you? I don't need to remind anyone here that when she's not working night and day to seize the throne and execute her step-daughter, then she's trying to shuffle you off this mortal coil, Jason."

The larger man's face suddenly paled as a thought occurred to him. "It's not poisoned, is it?" Immediately, he reached across the table and snatched the necklace away, giving it a tentative sniff.

Jason sighed, wearily and hung his head. This conversation was going to be difficult enough as it was without premature hysterics from his friends. "It's not poisoned," he insisted, gently taking it back from Hercules.

"Enchanted then?" he countered. "Or cursed. She's done it before. Remember when you leapt the bulls?"

Even Pythagoras appeared concerned. "Do you think it's possible?"

But again, Jason shook his head. "I promise you, it's _not_ cursed. She…she wouldn't do that." He winced as both Pythagoras and Hercules raised disbelieving eyebrows, in unison. "She wouldn't kill me _now_ when she could have just let me die when I was trapped in those caves. She was the one who found me. She brought me back to Atlantis."

Pythagoras' mouth hung open. His normally agile mind was stumped and he was clearly shaken. Hercules' expression was more difficult to read but as he made no move to speak, the young genius fought to fill the gap, to say _something_ to relieve Jason's pained expression. "But why?" he managed. "Does she have a…a _plan_ for you?"

Jason shrugged and it suddenly struck them both how _lost_ he looked…how young. Once again, Pythagoras was reminded of how very little they actually knew about their friend. "Probably," Jason answered, his voice raw, like his emotions. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. For a second, he thought he might be sick.

"But I'm not sure how I fit in to it anymore. She's…she's my mother."

* * *

That's it for now – more on the way soon! Thanks for reading this far. Please let me know what you think. :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Fortune's Fool: Chapter 4**

Standard disclaimer applies – I don't own any of them.

I hope people enjoy the next part!

* * *

For the next few moments, no-body spoke. No-body moved. The crude wooden furniture gave intermittent creaks and groans and outside, the shouts from the nearby market carried on the breeze. The sounds were intrusive but at the same time, necessary. They reminded the three that life still moved on around them and that time could not remain frozen at this particular point. At the point where everything seemed to change.

When Hercules shoved backwards an inch on his bench, the scraping of wood on the floor was the first resolute indication that the moment had passed. Jason's pale face was hung down, his eyes shining bright but not quite daring to look up, to gauge their reactions. And there was more. At least he had started with the most difficult but, Jason knew, the story – for as much as he understood it – was far from over. It was all so overwhelming. His story had never even _begun_ and here it was now, unfolding faster than he could keep pace with. He could almost laugh if he wasn't feeling so nauseous.

Pythagoras cleared his throat, not out of politeness but out of the need to force his throat into making sounds again. "Your _mother_?" He ran a surprisingly steady hand over his brow. For the first few moments after Jason had made his announcement, Pythagoras had waited for the punch line. For Jason to laugh, disarmingly and wave off their stunned expressions, no doubt delaying the real news. But once he didn't move and once Pythagoras began to think about it, a sickening sense of understanding dawned on him.

It made sense now. Jason's mysterious rescue where all other attempts had failed. The rescuer's desire for anonymity. His friend's reclusive attitude these weeks past. By the gods, if that had been his _own_ parentage revealed, Pythagoras was quite certain he would be found weeping in the corner and scribbling equations on the wall. Jason had never seemed at peace with either himself or his past and Pythagoras could only imagine how this would affect him. That Jason had struggled alone for so long, pained him.

"Your mother," he repeated with more strength in his voice, the question gone. The last thing Jason would need from them was to prove himself over and over again. It must have been hard enough to say it the first time.

Jason took a deep breath, annoyed but not surprised, to feel it tremble. "Yes." His voice was quiet but he risked a look up. Pythagoras' expression almost made him weep. It was still open, still calm and above all, still caring. Taking strength from this, Jason pressed on: "I didn't know," he assured them, hastily. He looked over to Hercules, who had yet to make his feelings known. "I remembered bits and pieces from the cave. Snippets really. Sometimes I wasn't sure what was real and what was a dream. You know?"

Pythagoras nodded, encouragingly. He sat down next to him, leaning into Jason's personal space. Jason had been retreating so much lately that he didn't want to give him any more chances to pull away. He shot a look at Hercules, wishing their friend would step up and say what Jason needed to hear: that it was alright; that they were going to work through this; that it didn't matter _who_ his mother was – he was still their friend. But, Hercules still alternated his gaze between the table-top and Jason and kept his silence.

Regardless of this, Pythagoras continued to listen to Jason's faltering explanation, hating the way it sounded like a confession. "That's not all though," he said. "She wasn't there alone. She was there with my father."

He started when he heard Hercules bark out a short, sharp laugh and his expression plummeted, his confidence shattered again.

"_Hercules_!" Pythagoras hissed, angrily. The mathematician narrowed his eyes as Hercules flicked his gaze at him and cut a sharp slice across the air with one motion of his hand. It was both angry and apologetic at the same time. It was, Pythagoras understood, having lived several years with him, the best they were going to get until Hercules was ready to speak his piece.

"Carry on, Jason," Pythagoras urged.

Jason hesitated. He couldn't blame Hercules. Hell, if_ he_ was on the other side of that table… But now that he'd started, he _had_ to go on – for his own sake. It was burning a hole right through him. He nodded. "We met him when we saved Ariadne but we knew him as Tychon."

"The leper?" Hercules' sudden exclamation startled them all including, so it appeared, Hercules himself. He quickly clammed up shut again but the sound of his entry into the conversation both jarred and encouraged Jason.

"Yes. That's only the name he gave himself when he joined the colony. His real name is Aeson."

At that, even Pythagoras sat back sharply. "Aeson?" he breathed, the cogs in his brain already turning. "The king."

Jason had never really thought of it like that. The king? The queen? They were his parents, nothing more at this point. The mother he had never known. The father who had left him with such a hole in his life, with so many questions. But _king and queen_? Why – _how _– had he never considered them like that before? The words started to ricochet round his head and he felt his pulse, heavy and erratic. He briefly wondered if he would pass out.

"I guess so," he stammered.

"Atlantis thought him dead. Or exiled. No-one dared voice their thoughts on his fate after the uprisings."

"How would _you_ know?" Hercules muttered. "You were a baby – you _both_ were. It was history to you. A _story_. _I_ was there during that bloody civil war – neighbour turned against neighbour, brother against brother as Minos' supporters fought with Aeson's." He paused and gave a mirthless laugh. "Your _father's_."

"How long has Pasiphae known?" Pythagoras asked, doing his best to let Hercules come to terms in his own way.

"Not long. Aeson told her the day they came for us in the woods." He paused. "I didn't really stay much longer to hear more," he confessed. "I couldn't. I mean, I had so many questions I wanted to ask but I couldn't make myself ask any of them! All my life, it's been this empty void – this feeling like I wasn't good enough for anyone to bother sticking around for." His voice began to crack and Pythagoras placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "I mean, my uncle Mac was always good to me but it wasn't the same and then here's this woman who wants me dead and she's telling me she's my mother! And my father's living a _day's ride_ from here?" Jason's eyes shone with unshed tears. "It was like a fantasy I might have dreamt up when I was a kid but it was all _twisted_ and wrong."

Pythagoras took a moment to think his words through carefully. "I can't begin to imagine how this must be for you, Jason. Well, perhaps a little: confused, hurt…hopeful? But I can tell you how _I_ feel about this." Jason held his breath as he waited for Pythagoras to let the axe fall. "I'm happy for you, Jason."

Jason blinked and released his breath sharply. "You are?" The bewildered uncertainty in his expression made his friend's heart ache a little. For Jason, it was as though the prospect of being _happy_ for this development had never occurred to him. But hearing it from someone he trusted and cared for as he did Pythagoras, the notion began to make sense, to ease his soul.

"Yes. You were an orphan. Alone." For a second, Pythagoras' eyes clouded over with past pain, unresolved and lingering. "I know what that's like," was his quiet admission. "You deserve a family, Jason, no matter who they are. And whatever may come of it, you have a mother and a father now. For all her sins and wicked ways, Pasiphae has chosen to spare your life – she_ wants_ you to live. That's more than you could have ever hoped for before. Who knows what the future may bring."

For the first time since Pythagoras had found that necklace, Jason felt himself smile. Properly smile, not the one that felt tight and stretched across his face whenever he'd needed to plaster on a façade. "She _did_ save my life," he admitted. "So did Aeson."

"Twice," Pythagoras added. "Have you been to speak to him?"

Jason hesitated. He looked down to the necklace in his hands, twirling it round his fingers again. He really should put it on again. Now that his secret was out, there was no need to hide it. But something still stopped him. Sensing that his friends were still waiting for his answer, Jason said, "No. I mean, I keep meaning to. But I'm not sure what I would say. Pasiphae says he took me from her when I was a baby, when she took the throne with Minos. She thought I was dead but really, he'd taken me somewhere safe."

"That would make sense," Hercules said, quietly. They both looked to him and Jason suddenly realised how desperately he needed to hear the older man's approval. "The queen had a son who disappeared. People just assumed he was killed while being transported during the battles or when the palace was under siege. Some even suspected Minos." Their older friend looked hard at Jason though he didn't seem angry or hostile. It was something else. Sadness, maybe?

"I'm sure he would love to speak to you," Pythagoras urged. "He must have been burning to have an honest reunion with you when we came to him in the mines."

Jason glanced down at the table and placed the necklace on the wooden boards. "Maybe," he allowed. "You're probably right. I _will_ go and speak to him. I just need to work out what I'm going to say first. Make sure I don't come across as a complete idiot or anything."

The young mathematician smiled: "You were rescuing the Princess of Atlantis when he first saw you," he pointed out. "I think he can only be proud." Jason smiled, bashfully. "There are so many doors opened for you now, Jason. You just have to be brave enough to walk through them. Whatever happens though, you must remember that you're not facing this alone. You'll always have us here."

Hercules abruptly stood, turning his back to them and moving away a pace. The bench slid back against the floor. His meaty arms were folded tightly across his chest, muscles taut. Jason's mouth hung open, uncertainly as he watched and Pythagoras also rose, though with a measured calmness.

"Hercules?" he questioned. "None of this is Jason's fault. He needs our support. He's our friend. I don't see why you're angry about this."

"I'm not angry! I'm _bewildered_!" He spun round to face them both. "I'm shocked at the astounding naivety of the pair of you." He paused and looked at them both, hard. "You just don't get it, either of you – talking about the future and opportunities and opening doors! As if everything's going to carry on the way it's always been but a little more _golden_ and _rosy_."

He strode back and sat down heavily at the table and Pythagoras, slowly did the same, his expression growing concerned. Jason just looked lost: hurt, lost and scared. Hercules took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm down. But his voice was no less urgent. He addressed his remarks to Pythagoras though indicated Jason with a wave of his hand: "He is the _former king's son_. The _queen's_ son and Minos' step-son. How much longer do you think he can stay living here?"

"I'm not going to leave!" protested Jason, eyes widening. But Hercules shot him a disbelieving, sad look and shook his head.

"Jason. Think about it. You think you'll have a choice? You're an heir to the throne. You think they'll let you continue living here, like a peasant, with us? Maybe, _perhaps_, when you didn't know the truth. But now? Trust me, my friend: this is the beginning of the end as far as we go."

Jason ground his jaw. "You don't know that!" he insisted, hotly. "And unless you're kicking me out, I have no intentions of going anywhere."

"No-one's kicking you out!" Pythagoras interjected, forcefully, glaring at Hercules. But the older man sighed, heavily.

"Don't be stupid," he said, gruffly, but his tone noticeably softer. "Of course we're not. We're _family_. Even though we could both be putting our necks on the line for harbouring you here if Minos takes the news, badly."

Jason looked alarmed. Hurting his friends never even crossed his mind. "How?"

Hercules gave a soft laugh. "You're a prince of Atlantis, Jason. What many would think of as the _true king's_ son. Minos could well see you as a threat. You _are_ a threat! There'd be people who would support you, if you made a play for the throne."

"He's only an _heir_," Pythagoras pointed out as Jason looked from one to the other, their words slowly sinking in. "Aeson is the only rightful challenger to Minos' position. While he still lives, Jason is just an heir. Like Ariadne."

Then he stopped suddenly and gave Jason a thoughtful look. "Of course, you know Jason: now that you are Pasiphae's son, it makes you eligible to court Ariadne."

The look of wonder that suddenly dawned on the boy's face was priceless, like a cloud moving from in-front of the sun. His eyes were bright and wide and his mouth hung open for a moment before curving into a far-away smile. Hercules sighed and dropped his head onto his arms. "There we go. We've lost him again."

He snapped his fingers in-front of Jason's face. "Hey! Don't go getting carried away too soon. You may be back in the game - if you were ever _in it_ in the first place - but you still need the girl's _father_ to agree to any match. Get Minos on side and _then_ you may be getting somewhere. But before you do that, you have to convince him not to have you imprisoned or executed or exiled."

Jason rolled his eyes at him. "Don't rain on my parade. It's a step closer than I was yesterday." He smiled again, possibilities swimming round his head.

Pythagoras gently cleared his throat. "Hercules has a point, Jason. Take one step at a time. I know you love her, but this is much bigger than just Ariadne. Hercules is right: this is a life-changing decision, if you're going to make it – a role that could make you king." The word fell heavily amongst them. King. It boggled the mind!

Jason looked as white as they'd ever seen him. "I don't _want_ to be king!" he insisted, panic lacing his voice. "Can't I just be with Ariadne and let someone else be king?" Hercules rolled his eyes.

"Sure. Who would you suggest? I'm sure Minos will agree to marry his daughter off and _not_ have her become queen!" He scowled. "Be realistic, Jason. You can't accept one without the other. Assuming Minos is willing to give you that chance in the first place." Jason balked.

"But I _hate_ responsibility! I've never wanted power. I didn't even like being a prefect at school! Telling people to tuck their shirts in when mine was always hanging out." He looked utterly lost, like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm not a _king_ – I'm not even a prince! I'm _nobody_. I'm just…_me_!"

Pythagoras could see his friend about to hyperventilate. He stood and moved to stand behind him, placing two calming hands on his shoulders. "Jason," he commanded, gently. "Stop and breathe. You're running away with this. Focus on one thing at a time. Focus on what you know is true, not on what may or may not be." He watched Jason nod, hesitantly, taking deep breaths and trying to do as his friend asked. "That's good," Pythagoras encouraged. "Think about your parents. Think about building ties with _them_ first. Ariadne isn't going anywhere. Put her out of your mind for just long enough to deal with these new developments. You owe it to yourself." He paused. "You owe it your family."

He watched as Jason's breathing gradually slowed and evened out. The young man hung his head to his chest. He appeared worn out. "You're right," he said slowly, looking up. "I need to focus. To prioritise. I _do_ want to know my parents. I'm just not sure if I want to know _them_."

He laughed. "I know how that sounds. But I can't help it. And do you know what's worse?" His expression hardened. "I always knew I was angry. I mean, I've been lied to my whole life. Even my uncle Mac must have known we weren't related but he never said anything. I was hurt and angry when I learned the truth. I was angry at _everyone_. But do you know, out of all the people in my life who were involved in this, the person I'm _least_ angry with? Is _Pasiphae_. Go figure!" He suddenly dropped his head back down, looking as though he could cry at any moment.

"I mean, what does that say about me? That I could sympathise with a _monster_ like her and be angry with the man I've idolised my whole life."

"I think it makes you human," Pythagoras assured him. "Pasiphae was like you: kept in the dark. It makes sense that you would empathise with her. It doesn't mean you're becoming her." Finally, he felt Jason's shoulders relax beneath his touch and the young man looked up and gave him a small smile.

"I guess you're right. Thanks."

Pythagoras gave his shoulder a reassuring pat before moving away and coming back to sit down. Hercules' expression was no longer one of approaching doom, either. He looked at Jason and smiled, albeit a little wistfully. "I _am_ glad for you, Jason," he said, quietly. "I may be sad for _us_, but I'm glad for _you_. And for once, triangle-man over here is right: we're in this together. It's going to be alright."

Jason couldn't help but smile even as he felt his eyes mist up. "Thank-you. But nothing has to change yet. Does it?" It was like he was asking Hercules' permission and the older man chuckled at the faith the boys seemed to have in him, despite him playing the drunken buffoon half the time. He gave Jason a rare, indulgent smile.

"No. Nothing has to change yet."

* * *

That's it for now. Thanks for reading this far. I'd love to hear a couple of words from you about what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Fortune's Fool - Chapter 5**

Standard disclaimer applies – I don't own any of them (still!) and the BBC does.

Thank you for your lovely reviews and encouragement! :-) I really hope people enjoy the next chapter. Please leave a couple of words to say what you thought: it all helps tremendously!

* * *

Almost a week went by wherein events returned to their normal pattern and pace. Jason resumed his job on the docks, Hercules frequented the taverns and found occasional, sporadic employment as night-watchman for various merchants and their supplies and Pythagoras was lost, once more, in a project.

The young mathematician was never happier than when absorbed in his latest puzzle and Jason's mysterious coin had proved to be just that. Every day he poured over different scrolls in the archives, returning home only once the sun had set and the smoke from the oil lamps had begun to damage the quality of the parchment, when reading after dark. He always came back with a covering of dust on his clothes from being seated, cross-legged on the stone floor all day, the occasional cobweb in his blonde hair and smelling slightly of the musty parchments. But without fail, he wore a smile on his face and his eyes held a gleam of inquisitiveness. With every unsuccessful day, he formulated a plan for the next day of fruition. Even those with a staunch hatred of academia could not help but be a little influenced by his enthusiasm.

That morning, over breakfast he had happily announced to Jason that he was going to stop by with Daedalus to ask the cantankerous genius' opinion. Jason had smiled politely and wished him success but absently thought that he would prefer to stick his hand in a beehive, rather than meet with the crusty old recluse again.

When evening came, Jason and Hercules were already home and, as was the custom, Pythagoras was yet to return. Hercules had made a start on dinner. He was a good cook, though given that he devoted a significant portion of his life to consuming the results of it, it really wasn't that surprising. Jason was always worn out by the end of the day. It wasn't that the work was too taxing but his body still fought to keep itself at peak performance. The boy never complained about it, not wanting to over-burden his friends with his share of the daily chores but they both noticed and had silently taken up the slack where necessary.

So while Hercules prepared ingredients for a stew, Jason busied himself with making a fire and clearing the table. A mad clatter of footsteps from outside their apartment made both men suddenly look up and share an indulgently amused smile.

No-one could canter up a staircase with quite the same gait as their friend. Jason imagined his arms pin-wheeling at his sides as he ran. A moment later and, sure enough, their little wooden door burst open and a beaming Pythagoras stumbled through it.

"Good day?" Hercules enquired evenly, his tone amused and one eyebrow raised. The young genius looked a mad, dishevelled mess. Jason chuckled as he poured his young friend a cup of sweet wine.

"Here," he said, coming to hold out the drink to Pythagoras. "Looks like you could use it." Pythagoras was slowly catching his breath though his cheeks were still rosy and flushed. He automatically held out a hand to accept Jason's offer though it was clear he had no intentions of imbibing anything until whatever news was on his lips had been disclosed.

"I did it!" he exclaimed. Hercules rolled his eyes at the boy's enthusiasm. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, like an over-eager child. There were times when these two _really_ made him feel his age. He continued to stir the pot, but asked:

"What did you do?"

"The coin!" He held up the gleaming object in question, almost spilling his drink in the process. Hercules narrowed his eyes as he resisted the urge to scold: there was _never_ an excuse for spilling wine.

"You found out what the markings are for?" Jason asked. He had never been as concerned with the idea as his friend had but he had to admit, Pythagoras' quest had made him curious.

Carefully, aware of how attached Pythagoras seemed to have become to it lately, Jason took it from his grasp and turned it over in his hands. The scratches around the rim of the disc and the patterns on the inside just looked like random bits of nothing as far as he was concerned. Though on closer inspection, there did appear to be some repeated patterns which he supposed would indicate a language. Jason had never been hot on languages. He'd only scraped through French GCSE so there was a world of languages out there that he knew nothing about.

But Pythagoras didn't seem to mind him taking the coin back. Instead, he moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jason and pointed out the markings, eagerly. "It _is_ a language," he said, "but not one that I could find. It was _similar_ to…" and then he stopped, suddenly aware of babbling. His eyes shot to Hercules who raised a puzzled eyebrow.

"To what?" the burly man asked.

Pythagoras shifted, uncomfortably and immediately, Jason figured it out. He shared a look with Pythagoras. "Um," the genius muttered, "it's similar to Pandora's box. To the language of the Gods." He glanced up to see anger and hope battle across Hercules' features. "But it's not!" he assured his friend, hastily. "The markings are archaic Greek. But the two are not directly linked."

Hercules put down the wooden spoon, resting it against the side of the pot and came to stand by his friends, the three of them forming a triangle. "But they _are_ similar?" he clarified. "I mean, they _could_ be related? Even distantly?"

"Hercules…" Jason began, softly.

"I'm not getting my hopes up, Jason!" Hercules interrupted, irritably. "I'm just asking a question." He turned his gaze back to Pythagoras.

The young man took a deep breath. "Yes," he confirmed. "_Distantly_…maybe." He turned to address Jason. "Jason, I believe this could be a divine boon." Jason just looked puzzled but Hercules immediately snorted in disbelief.

"A _divine boon_?" he scoffed, suddenly appearing to lose interest. "A _child's_ tale? A story? Is that all you've come up with after all this time?"

"Hercules!" Jason exclaimed, mildly shocked to hear his friend so dismissive, even scathing of their friend's endeavours. Pythagoras had poured his life and soul into this venture for the last seven days. He hated to think of the three of them falling out over such a petty instance. Jason did not take friendships lightly.

But Pythagoras did not seem perturbed. "I know how it sounds," he admitted, patiently. "I don't claim this coin to be a gift from the Gods. But there are significant signs that indicate it might be. Or, it could just be a random scratching of patterns on a gold disc. They are my only two possibilities."

He sighed, wearily. "In any event, it's the end of my journey with it. I can give this venture no more." He smiled and patted Jason on the shoulder. "It probably _is _just a child's tale," he said, a small, almost sad smile on his face. "A story told to us all in the cradle: that one day, when the world was young and man had just been shaped and moulded from the Earth itself, the gods, still enamoured with their creation, scattered across the Earth golden coins."

Hercules snorted once more and returned to his cooking. "If you're going to tell him a bedtime story, Pythagoras, we should put him to bed first. The gods know, he looks tired enough!" Jason shot him a wounded look. He had hoped his fatigue had gone unnoticed and at the very least, would remain un-remarked upon.

But Pythagoras seemed to ignore the remark and so Jason swept in: "Were the coins meant to be valuable?"

Pythagoras shook his head, eyes bright. "Not valuable in the way we think. You couldn't buy things with them. They were said to be blessings from the gods. Anyone in possession of a coin could petition the gods for any favour, any request." Jason widened his eyes in surprise. "As long as the bearer's request did not threaten either the gods or the Earth, they were obliged to grant it."

Jason let out a low whistle as he flipped the coin and caught it. "Sounds like an amazing story."

"That's all it is," Hercules interjected from the kitchen: "a story. The coin is just a scratched piece of gold." He paused, his mouth drawn into a tight line. "Or at the very least, a poor man's imitation of a god's gift." Then he turned back to his cooking, apparently intent on saying no more on the subject. Sensing something brooding beneath the surface, neither Jason nor Pythagoras brought it up again.

"As he says," Pythagoras agreed, quietly. "It's probably just a story and _this_, an ordinary coin. Otherwise the old man who gave it to you would doubtless have used it by now. Especially if his daughter was so ill."

Suddenly, Jason's eyes widened with dismay: "But he may not have realised its significance!" he exclaimed. "I mean, he was _blind_. What if he didn't know the coin was different to any of the others?" Pythagoras shrugged, a little helplessly even as Jason's expression became distraught.

"Well have you seen him since?"

Jason regretfully shook his head. "No. I've kept an eye out. Maybe he stayed in Athens? I should really try and return it to him."

"You're not going swanning off to Athens!" Hercules cut in, forcefully. They both paused and looked, slightly shocked, to his resolute, almost angered expression. "_Once_ was bad enough," their friend continued. "I'll be damned if I let you disappear again." Jason opened his mouth to argue but Hercules swept right in before he could utter a protest. "You're barely getting by every day as it is and I've had quite enough of worrying about your sorry hide every time you disappear! If the old man doesn't come back to Atlantis than that's just tough. That's the end of it!"

Then Hercules returned to stirring the stew with a near-violent vigour, clanging the spoon around the pan, meat juices splashing over the edge and making the fire hiss. He was studiously avoiding eye-contact. For a second, both boys just stood and stared at him, their mouths hanging slightly open.

But even as Jason's pride urged him to fight, his sense of guilt at the worry he was causing his friends and…something else, made him stop. It was with muted resolution that he nodded once and let the matter drop.

* * *

True to his word, Jason did try to seek out the blind man in Atlantis, but to no avail. No-one had seen him return to Atlantis. In fact, no-one seemed to have heard of him at all. Finally, Jason gave up and just accepted the coin as his. As Pythagoras and Hercules said, it probably _was_ just a story and in any event, they couldn't work out how it was supposed to be activated. At present, it remained a plain and ordinary coin.

So Jason tucked the coin safely out of sight. But not quite out of mind. As one day bled into the next, he couldn't help but begin to wonder: what if the coin _was_ real? What if it really could procure a gift from the gods? What would he ask for? The answer seemed immediately obvious at first and he found himself running the fantasy through in his mind over and over, during those sunny days out on the docks: _Ariadne_, plain and simple.

But then the fantasy began to shift. Small increments. Ariadne without the burden of kingship; but then she would miss her family. So bring back her brother, let _him_ be king and _Jason_ have his sister. But Ariadne would be a good queen – she loved her people and Atlantis would thrive under her aegis.

And what of his parents? Could he have a better relationship with them as well? How wonderful it would be to have them all together, happy and complete. His friends, too. What would he wish for them? He couldn't imagine being apart from them. And then what about home? His _old_ home. Mac, the few people he had counted as friends back in England. His old conveniences? Could he go back, just for a day? To assure them all that he was fine or just…_because_?

By the time he had forced his attention back to the present, his head was swimming and he was glad that, in his heart, he didn't truly believe the story. Because to ask just one boon? That, in itself, would be hard enough. But more than that, Jason was wary. Growing up, he had never been sure about religion and now here he was in a world where the fantastical happened on an almost routine basis – where gods and goddesses made their presence known amongst the people. And Jason found himself cautious. That kind of help felt layered with hidden consequences.

Asking favours of them? It all sounded like dangerous territory to him and to be frank, Jason had had enough of their influence – being dragged this way and that between different worlds and facing whatever fates they threw at him. Gods were trouble at worst and dubious at best. More and more, Jason found himself wanting to make his own fate.

The possibility of a future with Ariadne was now realistically within his grasp, should he wish to fight for it. For the first time in his life and against all odds, Jason now had a mother and a father who, if he wanted to, he could try to forge relationships with. As a child, that was just a fantasy he had told himself when he was scared or alone or feeling worthless. Every orphan's dream. He didn't need the gods to carve out a life for himself: that was up to him.

No, Jason decided, should the coin prove anything other than a child's story, Jason wanted no part in it. But what to do with it then? Throw it away? Put it in a box and forget all about it? The answer came easily to him, that evening.

"I think you should have it."

Hercules looked up in surprise at the sincere voice from over his shoulder. He was sitting on the floor, on the balcony, looking out across the night sky. The evenings were beginning to draw in now though they still held on to their warmth. He watched Jason lean against the wall and slide down beside him, until they were both seated on the floor, their legs outstretched.

Jason held out his hand and opened his curled fingers, revealing the gleaming gold coin, resting lightly in the palm of his hand. He was taking a chance, given Hercules' bitter dismissal of it before. But if it was really true what Pandora's Box had said and that _hope_ really did remain, well then who was to say this wasn't it?

Hercules' eyes flickered when he saw the coin, his lips moving silently. He glanced into his young friend's eyes and didn't bother to pretend he wasn't interested. The coin had been haranguing his every waking thought since Pythagoras had announced his theory. He had envisaged ways to ask Jason for it, to gamble for it, Gods forgive him – even to steal it from him, although he immediately felt ashamed for even thinking it. Surely Jason had a thousand things he would ask for? And yet here the boy was, freely offering it to him. It was the one scenario Hercules had never envisaged. The older man felt his heart clench as he fought the sharp sting of tears. He didn't deserve such friends as these.

"I can't take it, Jason," he choked out, gruffly. "It's yours."

Jason shook his head, his brown curls blowing gently in the breeze. "I don't want it," he insisted, earnestly. "I've thought a lot about it." He gave a short laugh. "A _lot_." Hercules shared a small, knowing smile with him. "My life's really not so bad," Jason went on. "I've never had so many opportunities open up for me before and…I kind of like to get places on my own. You know?" Hercules nodded, allowing himself to believe the boy's words because it was the only way he could accept the offer.

Jason grinned at him – that honest, slight impudent, lop-sided grin. "Figured you're in more need of help than I am."

"Cheeky," Hercules admonished, lightly, though his attention was fixed on the coin. Without another word, Jason picked up the coin and held it out for his friend to take. Hercules accepted it, squeezing it tightly in his hand as if sheer will and the intensity of his desire could make it work.

"It probably doesn't work," Jason admitted, quietly. "But if anything can help with Medusa, then we have to say we tried. Right?"

Hercules nodded, mutely. So many emotions and thoughts were crashing through him that he didn't trust his voice. But he owed Jason more than gestures. "Thank-you," he said, shortly. His lips were pressed together though he tried to smile at his friend. Jason saw and nodded and smiled back. Then he quietly rose, patted the man on the shoulder and left him alone on the balcony, alternating his gaze from the coin to the starry heavens.

* * *

The next day, the sun shone brightly. As Jason walked the marketplace, a bustle of activity hummed all around him, more so than usual. The people seemed animated, excited even. They talked in enthusiastic tones and greeted each other with certain phrases and responses that Jason hadn't heard before. A stranger wished him good fortune and Poseidon's blessings. Jason just grinned back at him and returned the sentiment, unsure if there was a particular response he should have given. The stranger didn't appear to mind either way. He just smiled back and carried on walking.

When Jason returned home, his basket full of fresh fruit, fish and vegetables, he found Pythagoras cleaning the house. Little bowls of water had flowers floating on them and fresh bunches of flowers hung from the wooden beams. There were shells of various shapes and colours lining the window-sills. Jason thought he saw new candles set on the table though he couldn't be sure if they were new or had just been stowed away somewhere. He inhaled, deeply. The air was sweet, as though fragranced oil or incense had been burning.

"What's going on?" he asked, a smile on his face. "Everyone's buzzing out there. And this place looks like a garden!"

Pythagoras looked up from dusting the benches. He smiled. "In four days, it's Poseidon's Day," he informed his friend.

Jason still looked none-the-wiser as he deposited the newly bought food into the correct places in the kitchen. "So what's that?"

Hercules strode in from his room at that point. "A good excuse for wine and cake!" he announced, happily. Pythagoras shook his head at him, good-naturedly. It was clearly not the first time they had had this discussion.

"It is the day assigned to the worship and honour of Poseidon, once a year. The people bring tributes and offerings to the temple, make offerings to the god in their own homes. It's a time to ask for a blessing for the new year. To be thankful for all that we have been given. And yes," he added with an indulgent smile, "wine and cakes are consumed as a sign of respect for how the gods and the Earth see to all our needs and provide for us."

"Amply!" Hercules added. Jason grinned, even as Pythagoras rolled his eyes. It was good sport to wind their young, genius friend up once in a while.

"It's our most sacred time of the year," Pythagoras told Jason coming round to join him in the kitchen. He began wiping down the surfaces. "People love to celebrate it." Jason nodded, eyeing the cleaning warily. He hated household chores and if he hung around too long when his uncle had been cleaning, he was always roped in to helping. But, his sense of duty won out in the end.

"Do you want a hand?" he asked, nodding to the cloth as though it were a viper. His friend chuckled. Jason was far too transparent at times.

"I'm almost done," he assured him. "But thank you anyway." He sighed and put his hands on his hips, taking stock of the larder. "We really could do with more wine and meats for salting. They sell out quickly as the day approaches and we need them for the offerings." He glanced across to Hercules. "But they never seem to last long and I hesitate to buy them too quickly."

Jason shrugged, glad to see a way of helping that didn't involve scrubbing pots and pans. "I can run down to the market and get some," he said. "I'm sure I can keep it safe for three days." Pythagoras smiled gratefully.

"That's great. Thank you. Just be sure to get wine that's suitable for ritual."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "And how will I recognise what that is?" Pythagoras sighed again and shook his head, ruefully.

"I keep forgetting how unfamiliar you are with our customs. You'd better take Hercules with you: he knows what we need. Just don't take your eyes off it, whatever you do!" Jason nodded.

"I'll guard it with my life, I promise." Then he turned to his friend. "Come on, Hercules." But the larger man didn't respond. When Jason looked at him more closely, he could see that the man was miles away, staring out of the window with a strange, faraway look in his eyes. "Hercules!" he called again.

Suddenly, the man started and spun round. "What? _I didn't_!"

"Huh?"

Hercules away, looked embarrassed. "Nothing," he muttered. Then he seemed to register the conversation. "Yes, wine. I heard you both. Let's go. I know the perfect place to get it. And there's a lovely little tavern on the way back."

Jason smirked. "Of course there is." Then he allowed his friend to lead them out and back into the hustle of the market.

* * *

Right! That's it for now, folks. More to come, soon. I hope people enjoyed it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Fortune's Fool - Chapter 6**

Standard disclaimer applies – I still don't own them.

Thank you to those who have reviewed! It gives me a real boost :-) I hope people like this next part.

* * *

That night, Jason turned in his narrow bed and buried his head deeper into his pillow. He let out a soft, contented sigh. He had fallen to sleep quickly and his sleep was heavy and peaceful for once: no dark dreams or half-twisted memories to wake him in a cold sweat. In the next room, Pythagoras had finally turned in, having busied himself half the night, scratching out more equations on whatever scraps of parchment he could find.

Sleep had also fallen quickly on the weary young mathematician though he slept more fitfully, waking intermittently at small noises and then drifting off again, just as quickly. It was the curse of a quick and active mind but it didn't bother him.

But Hercules' bed, stood empty.

Cloaked and furtive, Hercules hurried through the quiet, empty streets of Atlantis. He wound through the streets and passageways, letting the light of the moon guide him. Only the occasional dog's bark broke the silence of the night. A sound, much like the soft shuffle of a step off to the side of him, drew the burly man to an abrupt halt. His heart hammered in his chest and he glanced to the shadows of an alley. A moment later, a cat sprang out and yowled discontentedly at him, for no apparent reason other than Hercules was an intruder on its nightly constitution.

Hercules just chuckled to himself, shaking his head at his own nervousness. In his fist, he tightly clenched the golden coin. "Almost there, my love," he whispered to himself. "This _will_ work. I promise you: _we will_ be together again!" Then, with hasty steps, he continued his journey towards the temple.

* * *

Drawn from slumber once more, Pythagoras softly moaned as he thought he heard distant cries and the frenzied clanging of a bell. It was far off, perhaps from the palace. He rolled over and lazily cracked open one eye. The moon still cast its silver lure over his bed, lulling him back to sleep, assuring him the night was still long and he had no need to wake for some hours yet. And he was _so_ tired. He paused to listen once more. The bell had stopped, as had the shouts and his own house was quiet and still. All was well and his mind gladly slipped back into slumber.

In the next room, Jason turned fitfully but did not wake.

* * *

"Jason? Jason!"

Jason woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. The morning sun had risen but it had not long been in the sky. He felt the last remnants of sleep claw at his mind, trying to tug him back into obliviousness.

"_Jason_!"

Pythagoras' voice was as urgent as he had ever heard it. No, it was more than urgent: it was _scared_. Quickly, Jason tried to swing his legs out of bed, only to discover they were still tangled in the blankets. He tumbled to the floor with an "Umph!" and in an ungraceful heap. Quickly, he kicked free of the blankets and scrambled to his feet, running out to meet his frantic friend.

"Pythagoras?" he called, stumbling out into the house's main room. "What is it? What's wrong?" The young man was dressed but it looked as though he had thrown his tunic on in a hurry. His hair was in more disarray than usual and he was clearly out of breath. His eyes were bright and wild.

He almost hugged Jason when he saw him, running to meet him. "It's Hercules," he panted. "I've been out this morning to the market."

"Hercules is in the market?"

"No!" he cried. "He's at the palace. Jason, he's been arrested."

For a second, Jason struggled to wrap his brain around his friend's announcement.

"Arrested? Are you sure?"

Pythagoras nodded, emphatically. "I was up early this morning, just before dawn. I glanced towards Hercules' bed as I walked past and saw it was empty. Hardly slept in. Hercules isn't one for morning walks so I knew something was wrong. And then I remembered a bell ringing at the palace late last night and some shouting." He trailed off, looking crestfallen. "I knew I should have investigated it at the time."

Jason placed a hand on his arm. "If what you say is true, then the damage had already been done by then. I don't see what good your getting up would have done. Is Hercules alright?"

Pythagoras nodded. Jason wanted to lead him to sit down at one of the benches but the young man was too upset. He paced frenetically back and forth across the living space like a caged tiger. Jason decided it was wiser to let him be.

"He's alright for now," Pythagoras admitted in a strained voice. His features were pale and taut. "I have a friend who works at the palace. He knows the guards who were on duty last night. Not that it takes an inside man to know the story in this instance." He shot Jason a bitter look. "It seems the whole of the city is talking about it."

Jason still didn't understand. "But why?" he asked, sitting on the table and resting his feet on the bench. "I don't get it. What on Earth was Hercules doing at the palace last night? And how could he have been arrested?" Pythagoras stopped pacing for a moment, spinning on one foot to face Jason.

"He didn't go to the palace. He went to the Temple of Poseidon."

At that, Jason's brow furrowed in confusion. "That makes even _less_ sense. There's nobody there at night and in any case, there's nothing there that he couldn't see during the day." Pythagoras almost looked as though he could cry and it was making Jason start to panic. However, before speaking his friend took a slow, deep breath so that his voice appeared oddly calm and quiet.

"Behind the Temple is a sacred shrine to Poseidon. None may enter. Not even the king. It is strictly forbidden and to enter is against one of our most sacred laws. Only the chief priest and the Garden of Poseidon's Keeper may tend it." Jason nodded, to show he understood. "Within the garden is pool of water. This body of water is of the most pure, crystal clear water in Atlantis. It was a gift from Poseidon himself, to keep Atlantis pure and strong."

"From _Poseidon_?" Jason couldn't help the note of incredulity in his tone. Pythagoras narrowed his eyes and Jason immediately knew to be careful. It obviously meant something to his friend.

"_Yes_." He began pacing again, his agitation rising and Jason _wished_ that he hadn't provoked him. "Hercules broke in to this shrine. He threw..." he balled his hands into fists at his sides, face screwed up in sheer frustration. "He threw that golden coin _into_ the pool!"

For a second, Jason just sat, unmoving, waiting for the rest of it. But Pythagoras was staring strangely at him, looking so frustrated by his lack of a response that he might grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "Did you hear what I said?" he demanded.

Jason blinked. "Uh, yeah. Hercules threw the coin in the pool. What?" He thought for a second. "Is that like throwing a coin into a fountain and making a wish?" Pythagoras sighed and wearily came to sink down onto the bench. Jason quickly moved his feet over.

"Is that what people do where you came from?" he asked, quietly.

Jason nodded. "It was for luck", he clarified. "Just stupid really. You're supposed to throw it in and then make a wish."

Pythagoras smiled, sadly. "Doesn't sound so silly," he said. "Sounds nice. Like an offering. But I don't think Hercules was making a wish. I think he was trying to sanctify the coin." Off Jason's look, he explained: "To _cleanse_ it. To activate the boon. A sacred body of water like that may well have achieved this if the coin was anything more than a story." Jason shook his head, slowly.

"But it's only a coin," he pointed out. "It's not like it was rubbish or anything. Surely a coin doesn't matter?"

At once, Pythagoras was back on his feet and pacing. Jason almost inched back at the intensity behind his normally mild friend's movements. "It was _pollution_, Jason! _Nothing_ caused by man may pollute those waters. _Nothing_! For such sacrilege, the punishment is death!"

"_Death_?" At that, Jason sprang to his feet. "You've got to be kidding me! It's _water_, Pythagoras. I don't care _where_ it's supposed to have come from. It's just water! You can't kill someone for dropping a coin into some water! That's just _stupid_!" He was almost shouting now, not caring that he was insulting a religion that his friend clearly honoured. This world and its laws were getting beyond a joke when they threatened the lives of his friends. "So I take it he was discovered there? So they found a coin in a pool? Big deal! So what? This is ridiculous. How do they even know Hercules was the one who threw it? Do they have any proof? Did anyone see him?"

"Jason," Pythagoras interrupted. "To throw the coin in was only half the task. Hercules had to retrieve it again if he was going to use it. I'm sure he only meant to reach in a hand and pull it out or maybe, hook it out with something but you know Hercules." He gave a sad, soft laugh. "He'd fall over his own feet, given half the chance." He turned sorrow-filled eyes to Jason. "He tripped. The guards didn't find a _coin_ in the water. They found _him_."

Silence fell across the room. "All of him?" Jason finally asked although he realised how stupid that sounded. Pythagoras nodded.

"To bathe in the pool is…" he trailed off. "None have ever done it. It is an outrage to Poseidon."

"But it was an accident!" Jason pointed out.

"Jason, entering that area in the first place was forbidden! Claiming an accident for then falling in makes no difference whatsoever. The damage is done." He sighed, heavily. Tears were brimming in his large eyes. "I don't even know how he got the coin in the first place. I thought you had it safely tucked away somewhere."

Jason felt his heart plummet. He looked, aghast at his friend, guilt plastered over his face. "I gave it to him," he admitted, his voice small and hesitant.

Pythagoras slowly turned his head to stare at him. His eyes were both disbelieving and accusatory. "You did what?"

Jason gulped. The look Pythagoras was shooting him, he actually wanted to cry, he felt so terrible. "I just wanted to help him," he protested. God, could this really be all his fault? "Like the box said: to give him some hope! I never thought something like this would happen. I'm sorry, Pythagoras."

Pythagoras slowly rose to his feet and moved away a couple of paces. Jason watched him go with a cracking heart. "Jason, this is _Hercules_ we're talking about! When he's frightened or emotional or in any way thinking about Medusa, he _doesn't think_! He acts rashly, stupidly, _impulsively_! That damned coin was a curse, not a blessing!" Suddenly, the bench was roughly kicked out from under Jason's feet, causing the young man to lurch forwards until he landed standing on the floor. Pythagoras was angry but suddenly, looking at his friend's tormented face, he understood that it wasn't with him.

"I never should have investigated that blasted coin!" the young man remonstrated, tears running down his face. "This is _all my fault_! How could I have been so stupid? Dangling a possible gift from the gods in a desperate man's face? Bringing up Medusa and that cursed box again? I shall never forgive myself, Jason." He spun away from his friend but Jason was faster. He quickly moved to grasp Pythagoras by the shoulders and pull him in to a quick, hard embrace.

"It's _not_ your fault," he insisted, forcefully, pulling back but keeping a restraining, comforting hold on his arms. "We didn't do this. Maybe we could have seen it coming, maybe not. The important thing now is to be there for Hercules." He watched with growing satisfaction as Pythagoras slowly nodded. The young man quickly wiped away his tears as Jason carefully released him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, shame creeping in to his voice as he bowed his head. "I'm sorry that I accused you. That I blamed you. I've just been so worried about Hercules. He's the only true friend I've had – well, apart from you, of course. But when I first moved to the city, away from my mother, Hercules was the first one to offer me shelter, the first one to extend the hand of friendship to me. Of course he was pig-headed and brutish but I could always see the affection behind it."

He gave Jason a sad, wistful smile. "I've lived with _real_ violence, _real_ terror. From a father who played the family man on the outside and hid a demon on the inside." He paused, looking appraisingly at Jason. "I never wanted to say anything, out of respect for your privacy, but there are times when I think you have, too. I see the ways in which we are alike." He watched Jason shift, uncomfortably and look away. "Don't worry," he assured him, softly. "I would never tell. But with Hercules, I knew at once that I had found the exact opposite. His anger, his threats, were empty ones. He had a good heart and I sometimes lose sight of his true worth."

Jason rubbed his shoulder, comfortingly. "We remember when it counts," he insisted. "And we can't let him die for something like this! He wouldn't let it happen if it was one of us." Pythagoras regarded him with hardening eyes.

"This isn't like before, Jason. When you were accused of striking Heptarian, you didn't know the consequences, the significance of what you did. Hercules knew _exactly_ what he was doing and what the consequences would be if he was caught."

Jason's eyes widened and he found himself pulling away. "So what does that mean?" he demanded. "That we leave Hercules to his fate? That he _deserves to die_?"

"No, of course not!" Pythagoras snapped back, anger rising along with despair. "I don't want to see him suffer! Of _course_ I don't! But he broke Atlantean law and there's no denying it! He broke the law of the _gods_! This isn't some trumped up charge or even a twisted interpretation of a crime, like it was when Ariadne was accused of treason.

Hercules _did it_. No matter how much I wish it wasn't so, he _knowingly did it_. The stupid, idiotic, bull-headed _fool_!" His last shout echoed around the room as he stood, breathing in heaving gasps, hands clenched so tightly by his side, that pricks of blood began to seep from his palms.

Jason pressed his lips together tightly and looked down at his knees. He could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest. There had to be _something_ they could do. There just had to be. The gods couldn't abandon them now? But then, hadn't he recently decided to make his own fate? To leave the gods out of his life? Funny how quickly ideals changed on the turn of a pin.

"So what can we do?" he asked, patiently. It took a moment, but when Pythagoras turned back to face him, he had calmed. His expression was weary, lost, but resolute.

"Hercules stands in trial before King Minos at the palace at noon today. We do not let him stand alone and friendless." Jason locked eyes with him and nodded as they both drew some much needed strength from the other. They would need it and more in reserve, if Fortune did not smile on them. But for Jason, he held strong to one, over-riding thought:

He would not abandon his friend, no matter what the cost.

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That's it for now. Thanks for reading this far!


	7. Chapter 7

**Fortune's Fool: Chapter 7**

Standard disclaimer applies – don't own them; never will.

Thank you SO much for your really kind reviews – the feedback helps *so* much! I really hope people like the next chapter

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The crowds thronged to the palace, cramming into the Great Hall where Minos would pass judgement. So few were ever granted access to the palace that many simply came for the novelty. Not for the life that was about to be carelessly, thoughtlessly and mercilessly thrown away in a mockery of any justice system. Jason had never held the law of Atlantis in high regard: babies could be exposed to die; innocents who run in fear of the Minotaur could be executed on the street and those who defend a helpless old man can be sentenced to leap the bulls. No, justice wasn't blind: it had just never occurred to it to look over Atlantis in the first place.

It appeared that the eager preparations for Poseidon's Day in three days' time, had been put on hold. The joviality, the happy buzz of the people only yesterday had been replaced by rumour-mongering and insatiable curiosity. Who would offer him good Fortune now and ask the gods to smile on them? As Jason watched the huddled masses file past him, he eyed them with a growing contempt that felt alien to his nature. Even those who _supported_ Hercules would not dare speak up for fear of sharing his fate.

On the temple outside, a bell had been tolling for several minutes. Finally, it stopped. Pythagoras wrapped his arms around his middle. It was, Jason had noticed, both a protective and a comforting gesture. He glanced up from where they rested against the walls of the palace corridor, waiting to enter the Great Hall and met Jason's eyes.

"It's time," he announced, quietly. "They'll be bringing Hercules in soon. We should get in there." He paused, his voice wavering. "I don't want him to enter that place and not see the faces of those who love him." Jason nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. They had all been in the position Hercules now found himself in: but they had never had to bear it alone.

The two friends found themselves the last to enter the room. There was barely room to move for all the tightly packed bodies. At the front of the hall, between white marble pillars, two thrones sat empty, on a raised dais. A semi-circular space had been cleared in front of the dais, kept clear by a waiting line of guards. As Pythagoras pushed and wove his way to the front of the crowd, Jason was surprised by how easily they parted for him.

Whispers and pointed fingers were directed their way. Hercules was well-known, for better or worse and the three of them had been inseparable for a year now. Everyone knew, it seemed and although their undisguised speculation angered Jason, he was glad they at least had the decency to allow them access to see their friend. Not that it would have mattered if they hadn't. Both Jason and Pythagoras were past the point of politeness and would happily elbow a few people out of their way if it came to it.

But as Jason stood at the line of guards who were pushing them back into the edge of the crowd, he couldn't help but swallow, hard, when he saw the thrones. Stones seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach. It was an eventuality that the young man had not allowed himself to consider as he and Pythagoras had made their way to the palace. Jason had not seen Pasiphae since that day at the temple. He had gone out of his way to avoid her, even so far, in the beginning, as to stay indoors where her prying eyes could not reach. And there her throne sat, waiting. Would she notice him? Would she say something? Would she have decided that he was too much of a liability after all and have him killed where he stood? His heart beat a little faster and Jason was suddenly ashamed at how his mind had turned to his own troubles and momentarily forgotten the plight of his friend.

He was being selfish, he told himself. Hercules was the only one of them who mattered now. And Pythagoras, who honestly looked as though he would come apart at the seams at any moment. His young friend was a nervous bundle of energy and a permanent sweat lined his brow. Jason reached out a hand and gripped Pythagoras' forearm, squeezing it gently. The two glanced at each other, a flicker of the eyes, and Jason gave what he hoped, was a reassuring nod. Pythagoras nodded back and tried to smile. It didn't come close to reaching his wide, desperate eyes.

At that moment, the doors were opened and a tense hush immediately swept across the crowd. Jason removed his hand and they both straightened, craning, waiting to get a glimpse of their friend, to see for themselves that he was alright.

As soon as the palace guards had stepped aside from the double doors, forming a lined passage-way, a sea of blue silk appeared to flow into the room and up the steps to the dais. Minos' expression was set in its habitual hard line but gave nothing away that would either comfort or discourage them. For a second, Jason wondered if Ariadne would be joining her parents. He looked to the open doorway, where the young princess sometimes held back, watching proceedings without involvement. But this time, her place was empty.

And so Jason reluctantly drew his attention back to the present royal party. His gaze fell upon the woman he had been dreading. Pasiphae sat, ramrod straight, next to her husband. Her light blue robes, woven with gold and silver, flowed gently from her form with beauty and precision. The queen's gaze swept the room, even as her head remained still. The gesture lasted only a moment, but it _took_ only that moment for her eyes to soak him in and note his presence with a tiny, indefinable flicker.

He tried not to shift where he stood. Jason made himself look at Minos, or Pythagoras, or the ground. _Anywhere_ than at her.

Seeing that all citizens were suitably subdued and respectful, Minos' command rang out: "Guards! Bring in the prisoner accused of this most shameful crime against Poseidon."

Both boys tensed and held their breath, Pasiphae forgotten. The chinking of chains and irons could be heard from outside the doors and the steady, drumming footsteps of the guards. It seemed a lifetime in only a few moments but finally, the group entered the room. Hercules walked freely, his legs unshackled, unlike his hands. He was surrounded by guards who corralled him into the judgment circle before the thrones.

Pythagoras and Jason immediately ran appraising eyes over their friend. He looked worn out and pale but otherwise, he appeared unharmed. No bruises or signs of violence were obvious and he walked with a calm, measured pace and stood, humbled but with his head held high, staring straight ahead at Minos. With a slight pressure on his shoulder from one of the guards, Hercules kneeled down.

Several times, they tried to get their older friend's attention, tried to catch his eye. It seemed highly unlikely, given their proximity, that he would not spot them. But Hercules kept his eyes straight and either could not or would not look at them. Perhaps, Jason wondered, it was his way of keeping his cool, of holding his emotions together. He must realise the seriousness of his predicament more than any of them.

Minos levelled his gaze at Hercules. "You kneel before us accused of sacrilege: of polluting the waters of Poseidon's shrine. There are accounts from the temple's priests who claim this to be true." He paused and a weighty silence followed. "Do you dispute these claims?" Jason watched Hercules closely. The big man closed his eyes for just a moment before looking back up.

"I don't, Your Highness."

A small gasp went up around the room though as all inside had apparently condemned him before even hearing his testimony, Jason didn't see what they had to be surprised about.

Minos appeared to be of the same opinion because the scathing look he shot the crowd was enough to make a few of them bow their heads and shuffle awkwardly on the spot. "Do you have anything to say in your defence? Any way to explain your actions?"

Hercules opened his mouth and it looked as though he was actually considering a speech - to explain that this was for the desperate love of a piteous woman. But Hercules had never been one for naivety. He pushed his lips tightly together, Jason suspected, to stop them from trembling and betraying the last image he wished the people of Atlantis to remember him for. Jason prayed he was, in this venture, successful – it was the very least he was owed.

"None that would please the court, Your Majesty. Only my deepest regrets." Then he took a deep breath and, for a moment, bowed his head.

"_Say something_!" Pythagoras whispered, fiercely. Jason shot him a warning look, unsure of whether Hercules would even have heard it.

Jason leaned in surreptitiously to his friend. "You said it yourself," he whispered back. "What defence does he have here? No-one will listen." Pythagoras shook his head but the anguish on his face was clear enough without words. He remained silent all the same.

At that moment, Pasiphae leaned over to her husband. For a moment, they quietly conversed. Minos appeared grim and gave a short nod. Jason, Pythagoras and Hercules watched, curiously, trying not to hold their breath. The delay was not long. Minos was regarding them all again, his voice booming and solemn.

"For such a crime there is only one punishment: death by immediate execution."

Hercules inhaled, sharply, his face white. He had been expecting it but that was not the same as hearing it, as fighting to say one last goodbye to the people he loved. Beside Jason, Pythagoras stumbled a step and Jason immediately shot out a hand to steady the trembling young man.

"_However_." The king's voice suddenly echoed around the hall and once more, a surprised murmur rose up although it was quickly silenced by a hard look. "The Queen has reminded us of two important considerations." He addressed Hercules directly. "The first is that you are known to us in times past and that, for your part in slaying the Earth Bull and…_other_ services, Atlantis owes you a debt." Hope flooded back into both Jason and Pythagoras whose mouths hung open in suspense. Whether Hercules was so encouraged, it wasn't clear.

"And secondly," Minos continued, "in three days time it is Poseidon's Day, himself. A day for blessings. A day for new beginnings. And so, as it is Poseidon who you have wronged, it will be for Poseidon to judge your Fate."

The young genius gasped. He turned to Jason, gripping him tightly by the arms. "Not the bulls again!" he whispered. "We barely made it out the first time and that was only because of you. He won't survive the jump on his own." Jason opened his mouth to reply but was cut-off by Minos.

"Your lot shall be decided by the roll of the sea! If the Great Poseidon, lord of the oceans, deems you worthy, he shall lift you from the waves. If he does not, he shall take you in to the bosom of his kingdom."

At once, an urgent murmur rose up and spread like wild fire, around the room. Unsure of exactly what Minos' declaration meant, Jason looked to Hercules. The man bowed his chin to his chest and, for a moment, closed his eyes tightly. But beyond that, he did not react. Jason turned to look at Pythagoras. His young friend stood silent and numbed, mouth hanging open. Jason's world started to spin and he fought to keep the blood from pounding in his ears. The room closed in around him. He wasn't sure what the developments meant but the oppression he felt around him could _not_ bode well. This wasn't it. This couldn't be how it ended. Surely, something more could be done?

"In three days time, you shall be taken to the shores of Atlantis, as the sun sets on Poseidon's Day." Then Minos rose and, taking their lead from him, the room leapt to life around him as he and the queen cast one final gaze over the room before leading out of the grand double doors. The guards surrounding Hercules grabbed a hold of his arms and hauled him to his feet. They then started to lead him out. Hercules looked up and finally caught their eye. His expression was hard to read: determined; sorry; proud and the very last thing he would want them to see: afraid. The larger man opened his mouth to speak to them but was roughly tugged away and pulled out of the room, to be taken back to his cell.

Once the spectacle was over, the crowd quickly dispersed, muttering as they left and soon, only Jason and Pythagoras remained.

Aware that they would soon be moved on, Jason turned to Pythagoras. Neither had spoken since Minos had passed sentence. "He's not leaping the bulls," he pointed out, his voice soft and clinging to hope.

"No."

"What does it mean? The roll of the sea? Is that like surfing the waves?" Pythagoras considered his question, the words unfamiliar but the meaning apparent.

He sighed, heavily and slowly shook his head: "It means that at sunset on Poseidon's Day, Hercules will be taken to the shoreline. He will be rowed out to sea in a small boat. A stone weight will be tied around his neck and his hands tied and then he will be thrown overboard. If he does not sink, then the God has spared him. But if he sinks, then he has been condemned."

Jason's eyes widened as his mouth hung open. "But…" he sputtered. "That's crazy. No-one can survive that! He'll drown." Pythagoras appeared maddeningly calm. Saddened – _desperately_ saddened – but still calm. It infuriated Jason to see his friend so accepting of such an unjust and barbaric custom. He wanted to shake some sense back into him, to yell at him that this was their friend they were talking about!

"If Poseidon spares him, he will be saved." He shrugged, helplessly. "We must pray to the Gods and have faith. Hercules will need all the help he can get."

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They had walked home from the palace together, in silence. How strange it felt to be leaving their friend behind, alone and tormented in a prison. It was a betrayal of the worst kind. As they walked, both young men had cast furtive, surreptitious glances up at the sky. The sun traced a familiar arc as it continued on its habitual journey. Such a simple occurrence except now it meant so much more. It was one hour, one minute closer to the deadline that none of them were ready to face.

When they arrived home, even the front door seemed heavier to pull open and it shut, lethargically, with a reluctant sigh.

Jason wordlessly poured them both a cup of wine and they sat around the barren wooden table, each on an opposite bench and stared into their drinks. The roughly hewn wooden boards scratched and splintered at Jason's wrists and he shifted them, restlessly on the table. His whole body felt prickly and it sporadically pulsated with random shots of energy. Sitting just felt so _wrong_. If Hercules were here, he would have rallied them into a small army by now.

"Jason."

Hearing his name after so many minutes of silence, only added to his unease. He looked up from his wine and into the earnest eyes of his friend. He didn't speak but he knew Pythagoras didn't need an invitation. Time was flowing through their fingers and action was needed: Hercules had only three days left.

Pythagoras steeled himself. "Hercules' time runs short." Jason nodded, slowly. There was no need to state that which they were both so painfully and acutely aware of so he was sure there must be a further point coming. "And even if you _were_ to attempt to rescue him, I am of little use in this venture and we will have no support, like we did with Ariadne." Again, Jason nodded though his jaw worked itself, restlessly.

"But there is another option that we may yet try." He paused and gave Jason a measured, meaningful look. When Jason saw it, he understood. He had understood before it had even been asked. The idea had been eating away at him since he had entered the palace. He didn't want Pythagoras to give it voice. But he did it anyway.

"If you cannot reach Ariadne and in any event, her influence in this case is limited, could _Pasiphae_ be persuaded to help?" Immediately, Jason tensed. He was shaking his head before Pythagoras had even finished speaking.

"She won't help," he insisted.

"Are you sure? Jason, I know how hard this must be for you but the queen interceded on Hercules' behalf in the courtroom."

"_How_?" Jason insisted, hotly. "He's still going to die! Only now he gets to drown instead of a quick execution. She's done _nothing_ for him!"

"She pointed out his good deeds to Minos. I don't doubt that she has her reasons for this but maybe, _just maybe_ she is doing this for you." He hesitated, aware of the pained look Jason was shooting him. "Perhaps there is a chance that she will listen to you?" Jason looked down at the table. His hands had begun to wring together. "Jason," Pythagoras urged, gently. "You said you would do anything. _Anything_. Maybe this is it?"

Jason kept his head bowed as he tried to let Pythagoras' words sink in. To let the words of hope inspire him and replace the cold, hard fear that coursed through him at the very prospect. It took a second to find his voice. "I know," he finally admitted. He let out a heavy sigh. "But I don't trust her, Pythagoras. I _can't_." He watched his friend's expression crumble. "But maybe…" Pythagoras immediately looked up, hopeful. "Maybe Aeson could help?" He took a deep breath before pushing on. "He knows her better than anyone, even if they hate each other. They co-operated long enough to rescue me. If he would meet with her…talk to her? I might know if I should trust her, or at least listen to her."

"You trust your father's judgment? You trust him to do what's best? For you?" the young mathematician clarified: "For Hercules?" And Jason thought about it. _His father_. The man who carried him on his shoulders, who rocked him to sleep, who… Could he trust him?

"Yes."

And it felt good to say it. When he spoke the words aloud, it helped him believe it. "Yes," he repeated. "I think I can trust him."

Pythagoras reached a hand across the table and gripped his shoulder, tightly: "Then go to him," he urged. "Please. We haven't a moment to spare."

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Right! That's it for now. Thanks for reading this far :-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Fortune's Fool: Chapter 8**

Hi – thanks *so* much for your great feedback for the last chapter! And _**jmp**_, I'm sorry I can't reply to you personally, but thanks for your reviews – I really appreciate them. I hope people enjoy the next part and please, if you do enjoy it, just a couple of words to let me know _really_ helps motivation :-)

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Time was running short but Jason travelled quickly. He didn't think he had ever pushed himself to go so fast. He had hired a horse from one of the local horse merchants but even then, it took nearly half a day's riding. Eventually, he had drawn the horse up to a halt when the familiar terrain to the silver mines rose in to sight. He dismounted with slightly wobbly legs. He hadn't grown up on the back of a horse, like the others around him and it still took some getting used to.

After the horse was secured, Jason turned towards his path. He took a deep breath. The air was too warm: it felt like breathing through an oven vent. Despite his urgency, Jason took his time climbing the steep ascent. It was an awful situation to find himself in and Hercules' plight constantly weighed heavily on his mind. But in a way, it was a blessing – it afforded him the reason he needed to breach this gap, to make the journey that he should have made weeks ago. Thoughts of Hercules pushed aside his own more confusing ones and helped him to focus, to persevere.

When Jason reached the top and stood before the mouth of the old mine, he stopped in surprise. He had expected to find Aeson waiting for him having been sure his approach was noted. But only darkness stretched out to greet him. Cautiously, Jason entered the mines. He had brought no light with him so hoped he wouldn't have far to venture. As he advanced further in to the mines, the familiar rocks enclosed around him and Jason felt his pulse quicken.

_No_, he thought, desperately. _Not now_! He took a deep breath and briefly shut his eyes. In his mind, roaring in his ears, rocks tumbled and crashed around him as the ceiling, the walls, the _entire world_ collapsed on top of him. Blackness like he had never known it swathed him; choked him. In his head, he began to keen. It could have been out loud but he couldn't be sure. Jason never even realised that he had doubled over until his hand scraped and grappled at the rocky wall of the mine, struggling to find purchase, to anchor himself back to reality and out of the nightmare of the cave-in. His chest hurt, his breath came in short gasps and Jason fought to control the fear that seemed to be crippling him as his pulse raced.

A hand suddenly rested on his back, rubbing soothing circles. A voice gradually broke through the haze and pulled him back to his present surroundings, piece by piece. Jason latched on to it, allowing it to reel him in.

"Easy, Jason. You're safe. Just listen to my voice and breathe." He screwed his eyes shut tighter but nonetheless, tried to do what the voice said. He was dizzy and gripped the wall harder, only to discover that his stony grip had been replaced by the firm grasp of a human hand.

"Just breathe, son. Easy does it." Ever so carefully, the hands reached to his waist and eased him upwards until he was standing upright. Jason felt the blood rush as he straightened but he had to admit, the air was clearer and the pain in his chest began to lessen. The boy was dimly aware of his feet moving; of being half led, half dragged along until suddenly, he was out in the brilliant sunshine and being lowered down onto the ground.

The hand continued to gently rub circles in-between his shoulder-blades. "I'm sorry, Jason," the voice murmured, just above his ear. "I should have come out to meet you. I didn't think." And suddenly, as the panic drained out of him and safety returned, Jason properly registered who he was talking to.

He looked up at the man who crouched beside him and saw the concerned eyes of Aeson looking down at him. The man's hood was drawn back and Jason couldn't help but gasp at the person who stood before him. His eyes were lined with crow's feet and shadows but aside from the weathering of age, bore no signs of disfigurement. Faint scars of what had once been leprosy were visible on one side of his face but more than ever before, the _man_ stood out, clear as day. _His father_.

Aeson saw the flash in his son's eyes and smiled, almost sadly. "Hello Jason. It's very good to see you again." He hesitated for a moment; hedged his bets: "I think we have a lot to talk about."

Jason's eyes stung with unshed tears as he looked up at him. He struggled to make his mouth work but only succeeded in leaving it hanging open. Words stumbled and halted on his lips as he tried to make himself speak. His father was looking down on him, now after all these long, lost years. The face was not the face he recalled from his childhood but Jason realised now that the ghostly image he had fought to hold on to all of his life, was nothing more than a projection: the image of the father he used to have and of the hero that he longed for him to be.

Perhaps seeing the struggle his son was having to speak, Aeson moved to fill the gap. "If you're feeling up to moving, you should stand," he advised. "We can move to the shade of the trees over there and get out of the sun." Mutely, glad to have something to focus his mind on, Jason nodded and allowed Aeson to pull him up standing. The boy glanced down at the rough and calloused hands that grasped his own. He couldn't help but marvel at the touch – _his father's hands_. They would be like his own. Everything this man did now was different to the man he had met in the silver mines those months past.

Silently, Aeson still keeping a gentle hand on his shoulder, Jason led the way down the rocky path and into the shade of a small grove of trees. He sat down on a fallen tree trunk, only realising a moment later that it was Aeson who had gently guided him to it and propelled him to sit. Aeson then sat next to him and Jason felt his body tense, ever so slightly.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Jason nodded, slightly irritated that his earlier panic attack was being given so much attention. "I'm fine, thanks." He took a deep breath and looked squarely at the older man who regarded him with such quiet intensity. "I talked to Pasiphae." Aeson closed his eyes for a moment.

"I thought as much." His voice grew hard. "She was going to keep silent. I should have known she would go back on her word." Then he gave a short, bitter laugh: "Perhaps I always knew it." He fixed a longing, sad look on his son. "Perhaps the silence was too much for me to bear as well." Tentatively, he reached out a hand to Jason and gently cupped one side of the boy's face.

He could feel his son trembling beneath his touch. Jason blinked hard. He would not allow himself to give in to tears. He had so many tears from so many scars that never healed. If he were to start crying now, he didn't think he'd be able to stop. His lip began to tremble and he clamped it between his teeth.

"_My son_," Aeson whispered, rubbing his thumb across the young man's cheek and on hearing those words, Jason felt his abused heart crack and rend in two. "My strong, beautiful boy." There were tears in the old man's eyes, threatening to fall. When Jason saw them, he quickly looked away and his father removed his hand from his son's face. "I'm so proud of you, Jason. You are every inch the young man I hoped you would become."

Jason bowed his head and swallowed past the rock in his throat. "I don't understand," he managed, his voice a strangled whisper. "I understand why you took me away. Pasiphae told me." Aeson's look darkened in suspicion at this but he let his son continue. "But I don't understand why you had to leave me there."

Aeson sighed, wearily and shook his head at the look of anguish on his boy's face. He looked like a child: confused, betrayed and hurt by what he could not understand and Aeson felt his own heart clench. "Oh, Jason!" he breathed. "Believe me when I say leaving you in that world was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But I couldn't stay, son. I just couldn't. I belonged in Atlantis. My country was at war with itself. It was a bloody, brutal time. I had to try and bring peace to it – I had a kingdom to save."

Jason looked up, sharply, his eyes burning: "You had a _son_, too."

Aeson leaned back a little, regarding him with a touch more coolness. "_You_ were already saved," he said. "_Others_ were not so fortunate." He watched Jason bite his lip and turn away from him, his body tense and his arms shaking.

The boy needed time to adjust, to accept and perhaps, Aeson mused, he still had a little growing up to do as well. But he couldn't blame his son. He had been raised in a different time, a different place and in any event, he was still so young when all was said and done. So wonderfully malleable and innocent: nothing like his mother.

"You were brought up in a world of peace," his father continued. "Of marvellous inventions and ideals. A world of _wonder_." He smiled, wistfully. "It hurt me to leave you, but I left glad in the knowledge that you would have a better life than you could ever hope for in Atlantis – that you would be _happy_."

Jason fought _so_ hard. His whole body felt like it was shaking. He fought so hard not to let loose with every night he had woken up in terror, screaming for a father who was becoming more and more faceless as the years passed. Aching years of loneliness, of questions, of uncertainty and an utter lack of self-worth screamed at him for acknowledgment.

_Happy_? As if he had been left in some kind of blissful _Never-Never Land_? _The Magical Kingdom_ of Disney? Jason would have laughed but that would have only made him start crying. It was true, he had lived a good life, more or less, but true happiness would have been to have lived it with the one person who was supposed to have cared enough to stick around and live it _with_ him.

He had lived a half-life; ghosting through his own existence; leaving footprints on water.

Jason breathed in and out deeply, willing his body to stop shaking. Eventually, the tremors stopped. Aeson still regarded him patiently, lovingly and Jason pushed aside the angry, confused child. This child would have wailed and ranted and taken far too much of their precious time. He needed to be the man his father hoped he was now, no matter how much he felt like the opposite.

"You must have many questions," Aeson encouraged, smiling. To be sitting once more in this boy's presence was something he never imagined would happen again. Jason laughed, perhaps a little harshly.

"More than you know," he said. "But I'm struggling to think of them now. And in any case, that's not what I came here for."

A look of surprise crossed Aeson's face and Jason momentarily enjoyed having the upper hand in the conversation having spent so long being the last to know everything. "I came hoping you could help me. Someone very close to me is in trouble."

Aeson quickly reigned in his surprise and, it had to be said, his hurt. "The Princess Ariadne?" Minos' daughter was no enemy of his but nor was the girl his priority, however much his son was besotted with her. But Jason shook his head.

"No. She's fine. It's my friend, Hercules." He paused, searching his father's uncomprehending yet earnest expression. "You met him. He was the older man who came with me that day, with Pythagoras and Ariadne."

Aeson's eyes widened both at the memory and with recognition. "Ah yes. I remember him now. What's happened?"

And so Jason recounted, as briefly as he could, Hercules' tale ending with his fall into the sacred pool and his arrest. He became more animated, more urgent as he spoke, his own pain melting away as the present danger reawakened. Aeson listened patiently, nodding in understanding in some places, in sympathy at others.

Finally, when Jason paused for breath, he spoke: "It's a terrible circumstance," he agreed. "But what is it that you think I can do?"

"Minos has ordered his execution. Well, he's not calling it that. He's hiding it behind some pathetic excuse of 'rolling the waves' or some rubbish like that. But it's the same thing. They're going to _drown_ him, in less than three days – on Poseidon's Day!"

Again, Aeson nodded and Jason was almost stunned to see the lack of outrage on his father's face. This was his father! The man would _abhor_ the sentence as much as he, surely? But though Aeson looked sad, regretful, he did not rage with injustice. "I'm truly sorry that this has happened to your friend, Jason and I hesitate to hold with any decision of Minos'. But your friend broke a sacred law. If he had stood in judgement before me, I would have done the same."

Jason suddenly leapt to his feet, turning angry, accusatory eyes on his father. "How can you say that?" he demanded. "Hercules did it to save the woman he loves!"

Aeson also rose to face the boy, his hands held out, palms up in a placating gesture. "Calm yourself, Jason. I know the world you were raised in had a different set of moral standards…"

"_Yes_! Yes it _did_ and it taught me that a human life is more valuable than a custom and a belief. I know you all keep expecting me to just _think like an Atlantean_ now but since you went to the trouble of sending me away in the first place, you're going to have to accept the fact that I _don't_ think like the rest of you, I _can't_ think like the rest of you and quite frankly, seeing what I see of your _precious_ Atlantis now, I _don't want_ to think like you!"

By the time Jason had finished, his face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. He turned away from his father, hands clenched at his sides. He honestly didn't know if he was angry, betrayed, scared or just distraught. A hand suddenly rested on his shoulder and he spun to face the man, his expression wary and guarded. Aeson raised a hand and Jason instinctively braced himself as it came towards him. However, it came to rest, tenderly on his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Jason. What can I do to help?"

Jason hesitated. Should he apologise for his outburst? He wasn't sure, not remembering his father's temperament. But he had to take this opportunity while it was offered. "I need to know if I can _trust_ Pasiphae."

Aeson nodded in understanding. "You want to ask your mother for help? To have your friend released or his sentence commuted?" He had guessed as much when Jason spoke of the trial. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later, as his son nodded.

"Do you think she might consider it?"

Aeson hesitated, thinking; weighing his words: "Your mother will do nothing without her own agenda." He watched the hope drain from his son's eyes and felt his gut twist a little. "_But_," he continued, "if she thinks she can gain from it, she may be persuaded. She has nothing to gain from his _death_ and that, ultimately is what could secure the deal.

But you must not appear too eager. Do not give her an opening. If she sees a chance to pounce, she will take it." He levelled a firm gaze – almost a glare – at his son. "Never underestimate her. She _may_ help but deal wisely." He sighed harshly. "You are ill-prepared to handle her, I fear." Aeson glanced back at his son who was looking at him in barely concealed supplication – a desperation he had previously seen on a much younger version of that face. Jason's eyes beseeched his own.

"Will you help?" Jason asked, his voice small, desperate and innocent. Aeson looked into his son's earnest eyes and felt his resistance falter. His son was brave, strong and gifted but for all that, he was still his boy. He could not leave a lamb to negotiate with the wolf.

He gave a short nod, noting the relief flood through the boy and his shoulders relax.

"I will speak to her on your behalf. I can judge her better than anyone. I shall see if she can be trusted, if she will do anything for your friend.

But you must believe me that if I tell you to stay clear of her – that she cannot be trusted under any circumstances - you will leave this idea alone. _Do not_ try to broker your own deal. You must promise me!" And Aeson suddenly gripped his son around the arms, with more strength than Jason would have credited him with and gave him a firm shake. Startled but nevertheless sincere, Jason nodded. "I promise."

The older man appraised him a moment longer, presumably weighing up his sincerity. Jason held his breath, praying his father believed him. Eventually, Aeson nodded and continued with his instructions.

"I cannot enter the city but come to me on the city's border at sunrise in two days' time. That will give you a day to make any dealings that you must. _Should I deem it wise_. Remember your promise, boy." Jason was so grateful to hear his father's compliance that he didn't react to the man's tone and simply nodded his agreement.

"I will." he said. Then he suddenly launched himself on his father and flung his arms about his neck, burying his face into his shoulder. He silently soaked up the man's presence, his scent, his achingly familiar comfort. "Thank-you," he whispered, muffled against his robe. Startled at first, Aeson quickly recovered and wrapped his arms tightly around his son's waist, pulling the boy closer to him and relishing the very _real_ touch – the solid connection with him.

Regretfully, he pulled away from Jason and gave his arms one last squeeze. "And now you must go. Go back to Pythagoras and do nothing foolish in the meantime." He fixed a meaningful glare at the boy and Jason couldn't help but laugh. Apparently, he really was that transparent. "I will meet you in the woods where we parted company on your last visit. Do you remember the place?"

Jason thought for a moment. The events that day were somewhat blurry, especially given his head injury. However, he did recall the small clearing where they had made camp. "I remember." Then he smiled once more at his father and turned away, carefully picking his way down the steep slope and back to where his mount was waiting.

As he reached the horse, he looked back. Aeson had climbed back up to the mine's entrance. He stood framing the doorway and raised a hand in farewell. Jason gave a short wave in return before Aeson turned back and disappeared inside.

* * *

That's it for now – more to come soon. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – standard disclaimer still applies.**

Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed chapter 8. I really appreciate your feedback. :-) I hope people enjoy the next part!

* * *

Evening had fallen and was drawing in to night by the time Jason returned to the city. He returned the horse and then slowly headed back towards the house. He was worn out. Every inch of him had been sapped of energy and his humiliating panic attack in the mines hadn't helped either. Over the last few weeks, Jason's nightmares had lessened and he had hoped his irrational fears of dark, enclosed, rocky spaces were now put behind him. He sighed. Apparently not. Well, as long as he didn't take up pot-holing or caving, Jason supposed it wasn't a fear he would have to face on a regular basis.

Dragging his feet, Jason trudged up the rickety wooden staircase to their front door, pushing it open and almost staggering through it with a mixture of relief and foreboding. He was faintly surprised to see supper waiting on the table. Pythagoras had been busy. Not that the house wasn't looking clean before he'd left, but the young man had obviously been taking it to the next level. Jason had half expected to find scuff marks on the walls where his friend had been trying to climb them.

But the food was a much more welcoming sight. At that moment, Pythagoras emerged from the balcony, having heard the front door open. He looked glad to see Jason but just as tired. Being the one left behind to wonder in ignorance was equally hard, Jason realised. Pythagoras indicated the spread on the table with an embarrassed smile: "I needed something to do," he said, by way of explanation. "And I reasoned you would be famished after your journey." He gave a nervous laugh. "It was better than rearranging all the furniture and fittings into geometrical shapes." Jason raised an eyebrow and Pythagoras shrugged. "It helps me focus," he admitted, quietly, his cheeks flushing.

Jason grinned at him and came to sit down at the table. "It wouldn't have bothered me," he assured his friend. "As long as I could still find my bed. But this looks great – thanks." Pythagoras smiled back and joined him at the table.

For the next few minutes, both young men busied themselves with helping themselves to the meats, breads and olives in front of them. But even as he chewed, Jason couldn't taste the food. All he could do was look to the empty space beside Pythagoras. The silence prickled between them. Finally, after forcing a lump of bread down his throat, Jason gave up the pretence of eating and threw the rest of the loaf down onto his plate.

"I spoke to Aeson," he said, quietly. Pythagoras had also paused his meal. He leant forwards, listening with rapt attention.

"Will he help?"

Jason nodded. "He's going to speak with her. See if he can make a deal, if she can be trusted. I'm supposed to meet him in the woods the day after tomorrow – at sunrise." He watched Pythagoras' face break in to a welcoming grin.

"That's great news," he exclaimed. "I've been thinking about this while you were gone, Jason. I really _do_ think she will help. I mean, she's your _mother_ – she must know if she wants to build a relationship with you, this would always stand between the two of you?"

Jason could see the animation and excitement in his friend's voice and body language and inwardly winced. He had been hoping Pythagoras wouldn't pin too much hope on the idea. He hated the thought of everything resting on his own non-existent relationship with his psychotic mother. Clearly, cleaning the house and preparing a meal had not done _enough_ to temper Pythagoras' thoughts.

He smiled and Jason honestly hoped it looked reassuring. "He'll do his best," he said. "I know he will. But…" He trailed off, seeing some of the light fade from the young genius' eyes. "Let's just be ready for anything, eh?" He tried to smile but didn't wholly succeed. Giving up on dinner, Jason rose from the table. "I'm going to sharpen the swords," he muttered, quietly. He saw Pythagoras raise an eyebrow, a wary question in his eyes.

Jason rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Don't worry. I promised Aeson I'd be a good boy and wait with you here. But that doesn't mean I can't do some preparation of my own." He gave Pythagoras a wink and the young man shook his head, ruefully.

"_Jason_," he began, a light warning in his tone.

"Don't worry, Pythagoras. When have I ever done anything rash? Look, if it makes you feel any better, when I've finished sharpening the weapons, we can arrange them into triangles. Okay?"

"Oh yes," Pythagoras called, as Jason headed in to his bedroom. "That would be _very_ helpful." But he was only rewarded with the sound of clanging metal as axes, swords and knives were emptied out onto the young man's bed. Shaking his head, and with a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips, Pythagoras popped one last olive in his mouth before gathering up the abandoned meal and starting to clear it away.

* * *

Along the walls of the palace corridor, the torches flamed in their sconces. A few servants scuttled about the hallways, bringing jugs of warm water to the bedrooms so that the family might wash before retiring to bed. Minos was in the State room, working late on his papers and Pasiphae was heading towards their chambers. A movement from the side caught her attention and she quickly drew to a halt, her mind turning to the dagger secreted into the folds of her dress.

However, it was only Melas who emerged from the shadows and she let out a sharp sigh. "_Melas_," she exclaimed. "Why are you hiding in the shadows?" She afforded him a curious, hard look. "Ariadne is not here and in any event, she should not be performing her duties at this late hour."

But the priest took a step towards her, his hands folded carefully in front of his purple robes. He spoke in soft, low but urgent tones: "It is not the Princess Ariadne that I have come to see, Your Majesty. It is you."

At once, Pasiphae narrowed her eyes and took a step closer, sensing the danger behind his words. "_Me_?" she questioned. "Why?"

Melas bowed respectfully and held out one hand to the city beyond the palace. "I apologise for the late hour. But the Oracle wishes to see you and it cannot wait." Pasiphae drew in a sharp breath. The Oracle? There was precious little the two of them would willingly meet to discuss. Immediately, her thoughts eagerly turned to her son. She felt her pulse quicken. However, she would not betray the thrill that coursed through her. Pasiphae gave Melas a curt nod, hoping that Minos would remain enrapt in his politics for some time yet.

Silently, they left as one and he accompanied her out of the palace and into the Temple of Poseidon where the Oracle waited for her.

* * *

The sun had barely crested the sky when Pasiphae stepped into the small woodland clearing. Aside from sundry wildlife, the space was empty but the queen was not fooled. She called out into the emptiness: "I would dearly like to know how it is that you can contact the Oracle of Poseidon without ever entering the city, Aeson." She smiled, her lips curled up darkly, as her gaze roamed the tree-line. "Have you spies, I wonder?" she whispered, amusement dancing on her voice.

A rustling behind her made her spin round, annoyed at her own reaction. Aeson emerged from the trees. "I have my secrets, Pasiphae. The gods know you have enough of your own. But I did not ask you here to fight." He paused, the words coming unnaturally. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me."

She straightened and nodded, putting aside her own misgivings. The Oracle had given her no information as to the reason for the request but it was not hard to guess the subject of their up-coming discussion. "I assume it has to do with our son," she pointed out. "Else I would not have come."

He looked at her, darkly and closed the gap between them. "It is. Jason has come to see me." Pasiphae raised a curious eyebrow – so he _had_ made contact with his father. She supposed it was only natural but the fact that Jason willingly did so, did nothing to alleviate her bitterness and jealousy.

"So you see that he was indeed delivered safely back to Atlantis and cared for?" She could not help but throw down the challenge. Aeson gave a half smile and nodded.

"Yes, I see you did as you promised. I also see you told him the truth that we agreed should be kept from him." He watched her stiffen and her smugness falter.

"It was not by choice," she snipped. "He overheard a conversation that he should not have. But I'm not sorry for it. I'm glad he knows and Minos now knows, too."

Aeson gasped. "You fool!" he hissed. "Minos will kill him!"

Fire flamed in his ex-wife's eyes and her lip curled upwards, almost into a snarl. She did not fare well when insulted by anyone but _particularly_ from this man. "Minos may take time to accept him but he is willing to give Jason a chance!" she exclaimed, angrily. "I _had_ to take action, once his secret was revealed. But in any case, you said there were matters to discuss. What are they? I must not be too long from the palace."

Swallowing back his own retort, Aeson begrudgingly acknowledged she was right. He forced himself back on topic. "Jason has explained the situation his friend, Hercules is in."

Pasiphae nodded but did not look surprised. She had expected the boy to seek her out directly and had been mildly surprised as Poseidon's Day crept closer and still her son had not made contact. Now this explained why. Clearly, he still trusted his father. Anger niggled at her, even if it did not shock her.

To Aeson, she replied: "Yes. He polluted Poseidon's shrine. Minos has sentenced him to the waves."

"I know." He gave her a pointed look. "A swift execution would have been more merciful," he said. "But I suppose this will amuse the crowds." He paused. "And give you time to bargain." Pasiphae straightened her shoulders but made no denial. "Isn't that what this is all about?" he questioned her. "To give Jason a reason to come to you?"

She pierced him with a lofty look. "And if it is?" she challenged. Aeson smiled at her, his expression both satisfied and cautious.

"You will not persuade him without my help. The boy loves his friends dearly. He would sooner be executed alongside him or hatch a poorly thought-out rescue attempt and live his life in exile, rather than let his friend die." He hesitated with his next words: "Where he's from, they have no execution of prisoners. It is a custom he cannot accept."

Pasiphae gritted her teeth: the information was useful – it helped her to understand her son, to anticipate his next move. But how like Aeson to ensure only _he_ held the cards. "So then," she ground out. "What do you suggest?"

Aeson began to pace, to circle her. "What is it you want from him?"

She pivoted to keep facing him. "To _know_ him," was her immediate response. "For Jason to learn about who he really is. And what he could be."

Aeson thought for a moment. "And in return? Will you spare his friend?"

Pasiphae snorted: "His life or death means nothing to me. Minos could be persuaded, if I gave him good reason. For all his faults, he is not _so_ stupid." She suddenly reached out a hand and gripped his arm, stopping his circling. Her fingernails dug into his arms, like claws. "And what of _you_? What do _you_ get out of this?" Aeson smiled at her.

"Tomorrow morning I have arranged to meet with Jason, at dawn. I will give him the assurances he needs to listen to your offer. I will help you to shape your words into those which he will find acceptable." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Well, as acceptable as they can be, given he is bartering for the life of his friend."

Pasiphae fixed him with a hard look. "And in return?"

"I have conditions of my own for your arrangement," Aeson replied, his voice hard yet strangely soft. Something inside of the queen, shivered. She opened her mouth to protest but Aeson was faster: "I promise you, Pasiphae, Jason will listen to me and _only to me_. If you want any chance to build a relationship with him you would be wise to agree to my terms."

For a moment, Pasiphae pressed her lips tightly together and said nothing. This could be the only chance she had to manoeuvre Jason where she wanted him. And Aeson was right: on his own, the boy would never trust her. Why should he?

Aloud, however, she chuckled. "Even _I _do not think him _that_ pliable, Aeson. Could it be you underestimate your own son?" The man frowned at her but she waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind. Time runs short and we still have much to discuss." And that being said, they walked deeper into the woods as details were discussed and a plan arranged.

* * *

When Atlantis awoke to Poseidon's Day, the sun was beaming down and a fresh sea breeze carried on the air. Many had risen early for the dawn rituals, held in the privacy of their own homes. But for Pythagoras, the day had already stretched on for hours. Jason had risen when the night was well and truly dark and he and Pythagoras had shared a silent, humble breakfast together, hunched over the new candles that had been prepared for this festival day.

Neither young man had much of an appetite. Would Hercules be awake now? Their thoughts had tortured them without cessation. Had their friend slept at all since his arrest? They had not been able to see him although Jason had tried – even Ariadne could not help them and Hercules was well-guarded.

But she had assured them he was well. As well as could be expected. She had looked in on him, personally. And now the day itself had arrived.

Pythagoras had offered to come with Jason to meet his father but the young man had preferred to go alone. Pythagoras couldn't blame him but nor did he relish the prospect of wiling away the hours by himself as he waited, helplessly for his return. He glanced out of the window. The sun had risen higher still and people milled excitedly about the streets. The morning was nearly spent. It was the first Poseidon's Day he could remember, where he had not been enjoying the ambiance with them.

The young man cast a desperate look down the street, as he had done for the last hour. Surely Jason would be back soon? The forests that bordered the city were not _that_ far away. It would not be long before they began to prepare Hercules for the trials – for the sacrifice. Suddenly, as if sensing his thoughts, footsteps sounded outside the room and Pythagoras swung round to the sound.

The door opened and it was all the young mathematician could do to stop himself running forwards and literally shaking the story out of the newly arrived Jason. "Well?" he asked, hands wringing the front of his tunic. "What did Aeson say? Did he speak to her?"

For a second, Jason's expression was difficult to read. His eyes were wide and earnest, his face lined with worry but after a moment, his mouth curled up into a smile. "She'll help," he confirmed. At that, Pythagoras didn't bother restraining the impulse. He almost leapt forwards and flung his arms about his friend's neck, practically hugging the life out of him. Jason could feel his friend's grin from the back of his head and couldn't help but laugh like an idiot, returning the hug. It felt so good to honestly laugh after the nightmare of the past three days.

Finally, Pythagoras released him and stepped back. Nothing could dim his smile though. "Jason! I knew it! I _knew_ the gods would not abandon us. This is excellent news. When will this happen?"

"I'm going to meet with her now and hear her terms."

At that, Pythagoras stopped short. His smile began to fade as wariness crept in. "Her _terms_?"

Jason shifted a little uncomfortably. He'd been trying not to dwell on that matter himself. "Aeson did the best he could," he argued, a little defensively. "But she's not known for her selflessness. He says she has conditions to agree to but that I can trust her. At least, I can trust her in this instance." He hesitated. "In any case, I can at _least_ hear her out. This _is_ for Hercules, after all. Whatever happens, we can't let him die."

Then Jason smiled at him. It was meant to convey his confidence but failed, badly. Still, Pythagoras returned the gesture and, regardless of the apprehension both boys were feeling, Jason appreciated the show.

As he headed back out to the door, he heard Pythagoras' quiet, honest voice behind him: "Good luck, Jason."

Jason turned to face his friend, one hand on the door handle. "I'll bring him home," he promised and then he left.

* * *

That's it for now. Thank you for reading this far. A couple of words to let me know what you think, would really be appreciated. :-)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Standard disclaimer applies – I still don't own them and the BBC still does.

Thank you so much for your lovely feedback and support! I really hope people enjoy the next chapter. Not too much longer to go now for this story so I hope people are enjoying the ride. :-)

* * *

It felt very strange, entering the palace _without_ chains and _with_ an invitation. Jason was shown to a small room, reserved for the members of the royal family. It was small but airy with an open casement on one wall and a well-sized polished wooden table in the centre. A couch, long enough for two, rested against the near wall. The room was empty when a servant showed him to it and Jason was left fidgeting restlessly as he waited for the queen to join him. He glanced out of the window and on to the private courtyard below. He wandered around the small alcoves set into the wall. Small statues of gods and goddesses adorned the spaces and Jason couldn't help but pick them up and start to fiddle.

"Curiosity is a worthy attribute," a mellow voice sounded behind him. "But _not_ if you break off Poseidon's trident."

Jason quickly scrambled to replace the statue and then spun around to face Pasiphae. "Is that punishable by death, too?" he wondered and he found he wasn't even kidding. Standing in the doorway, his mother levelled a pointed, faintly amused look at him.

"No," she finally allowed with the ghost of a smile. "But I would think of something."

Despite himself, Jason tried hard not to gulp. This was only the second time he had been in a room with her when his life _wasn't_ at stake and he had no idea how to proceed. Fortunately, Pasiphae took the lead.

She stepped forwards and indicated that Jason should sit. Jason eyed the couch warily and shook his head. "No thanks," he said, quietly, hoping she didn't take it as rudeness. But he never did well, being still when he was nervous. He glanced down at his sandals while he fought to control his nerves. Pasiphae made no comment on this. Instead, she simply moved to stand opposite him.

"I am very glad you have come to see me, Jason." The honesty and apparent gentleness in her voice startled him. He took a deep breath and finally drew his eyes up to meet her.

"Aeson said I should listen to you. That you could help."

The queen nodded and for a moment, turned and stepped outside the room. A puzzled look crossed Jason's face as he watched her disappear but she returned a moment later, carrying a small, carved wooden box. She opened it and withdrew a piece of rolled parchment.

"I have spoken to Minos on your behalf," she began. Jason's heart thudded painfully in his chest: he barely remembered to breathe. All he could do was swallow, though his throat was painfully dry and his mouth felt as though it was lined with cotton. He hoped she wasn't expecting a coherent verbal response any time soon.

"He has agreed to waive his earlier sentence. Your friend will not face the trials of the sea." She _sounded_ benevolent enough but Jason just knew there was more.

"Hercules is free to go?" he questioned.

She regarded him oddly for a moment and, under her scrutiny, Jason couldn't help but feel a little stupid. "His sentence will be _commuted_," she clarified. "He did, after all, commit a crime. A fine of fifty gold coins, to be paid in full before his release." Jason almost choked.

"That's more than we see in _half a year_!" he protested. "How do you expect us to pay that?" He'd been tricked, Jason thought, hotly. He'd been a fool to believe she would help. However, just as he had turned to storm out, Pasiphae merely raised one hand. Irritatingly, it stilled him.

"I do not expect you to fulfil the debt," she said, somewhat tersely. "I am well aware of your living conditions." There was a decidedly disparaging tone to her voice but Jason tried not to mind it. "The money has already been put forward, pending Hercules' release." Jason couldn't help it: his mouth gaped open as he stared, incredulously at her. Seeing his disbelief, Pasiphae laughed and not entirely pleasantly. "And it was not _I_ who put up the money, I assure you. It would seem you have another benefactor at the palace."

She almost rolled her eyes. "I wonder who that could be?" But before Jason had a chance to respond, the queen continued. "There is my offer."

Jason's head was spinning. It _sounded_ legitimate. It sounded as though Hercules was free – that this was over. But Aeson's warnings flooded back into his mind. "So now that the money is paid, Hercules can go?"

Pasiphae nodded. "Of course. His sentence has been conditionally commuted." At that, Jason stopped short.

"_Conditionally_? Conditional on _what_?"

"On you."

The young man felt the walls begin to close in and he fought to control his racing pulse. He needed something to fight. Something to leap; to dodge. In this room, alone with this woman, he felt utterly powerless. "What do you mean _on me_?" he asked, silently relieved that his voice didn't come out in the squeak he had feared it would.

In answer to his question, Pasiphae calmly unrolled the parchment and offered it to him. It took Jason a second longer to register that he was supposed to accept it. He did so with numb fingers, praying she couldn't see them shaking. Glancing down at it, Jason struggled to read the words written. They _looked_ Greek and, though he didn't understand why or how, he somehow had a basic understanding of the Greek language. But these words were barely recognisable. He thought he recognised his own name, somewhere near the top of the page.

He looked to her, a question in his eyes. "I wish for you to know your family, Jason," she explained. "Nothing more terrible than that." Slowly, mutely, he stared again at the parchment, willing it to suddenly become clearer. It did not. But Pasiphae continued to speak. "And it seems you will not do that without encouragement. So: you spend time here, at the palace." She no longer smiled. This was the crux – the ultimatum and he had to know what it entailed. They would smile later.

"_With you_?" Jason repeated, struggling to wrap his head around it. "For how long?"

"You will divide your time into days of seven," she informed him. "Aeson has assured me that this number will have a…comforting significance for you. You will spend the first three of those seven days here, at the palace. After that time you will be free to return to your friends for a further three days."

Jason stepped backwards, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. "Three days out of every week?" he demanded. "With _you_?"

Pasiphae remained cool and calm. She carefully retrieved the parchment from him and unrolled it to particular passage. She pointed it out to him. "The conditions of this arrangement are clearly given here," she informed him. "I have kept nothing from you. You are free to study this in as much detail as you wish." Jason looked back to the indecipherable lines and squiggles and felt bile rise in his throat.

"I can't read this," he muttered, _wishing_ his heart would stop thumping so loudly. Surely she could hear it? Pasiphae's brow creased in confusion.

"I was under the impression that you _could_."

Jason balled one hand into a tight fist by his side. "This isn't normal Greek," he pointed out through clenched teeth.

Pasiphae tutted, disparagingly. "This is a _legal_ document. It is not written in the _common tongue_. It is written in an older version of our noble language as all documents of importance are. I _had_ hoped you were versed in the laws and language of our people." He felt his face burn as her mouth curled up into a smile. "Apparently I was mistaken. Never mind," she continued, briskly. "You may take it with you and have the clever one look it over. I am sure he can read it."

And angered though he was, Jason realised it was the first time he had heard her compliment one of his friends. He felt oddly grateful.

Suddenly, his mother spoke again but this time her voice was softer, more maternal. It was more like the voice he had always imagined his mother would have. "I can see that this is hard for you, Jason. I wish it wasn't so. I promise you have nothing to fear from me."

"But you don't even _like_ me." His sudden, desperate innocence stopped her breath for a moment.

His mother almost smiled. A pained look passed over her features. "I shall not insult you by pretending that I know you. But I can tell you that I honestly wish to rectify that. I cannot change the past. But we _can_ build the future."

Jason turned away from her. He walked to the window and looked outside, breathing in the fresh, vitalising air. Outside, the world continued as normal, as though nothing were changing. Inside the room was a different story entirely. Her words echoed around his brain and Jason took a moment to let them settle, to allow them to seep through the fog. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned back to face the queen.

"So three days with you?"

"And three days of your own choosing," she continued, lightly. "That's fair, is it not?" Her voice was soft – almost melodic – but that only unnerved Jason. Her softly chiming words reminded him of near-silent footfalls, approaching from behind. Dangerous.

_Do not trust her_, the voice inside his head screamed. Jason felt his options slipping away from him, felt himself backed further and further into a corner. He wanted to panic. He so _desperately_ wanted to give in to panic. But that was not the way to deal with Atlantis' fearsome queen.

"You said _seven_ days," he pointed out, tightly. "My _Greek law_ might be rusty but my maths is just fine. What about the last day?"

At this, a look of annoyance flashed across the Queen's face. It almost amused Jason to see it there, though he didn't know why. "The last day is your father's," she said, sounding as though she had a bitter taste in her mouth.

"My father?"

"Yes." Her look shifted to one of dark amusement. "Don't look so surprised. His help comes at a price – just like everyone else's." Something flashed in Jason's eyes – was it anger? Betrayal? She wasn't sure but Pasiphae noticeably softened her tone. "He wishes one out of every seven days to be spent with him. I _did_ make plain that the abandoned silver mines of a _leper colony_ was not a _fit_ place for royalty…"

"You sent _him_ there," Jason interrupted.

She arched an eyebrow. "_He_ fits it."

Jason sighed. He'd known plenty of friends whose parents were un-amicably divorced but he couldn't help thinking that _his own_ took their fighting to the next level. "In any event," Pasiphae continued, levelling him with a small frown which he _assumed_ was for the interruption, "he has assured me that he is…expanding his little…_community_." She made no effort to disguise either her disinterest_ or_ her distaste.

"He's moving out of the mines?"

"Apparently," she sighed, weary of the topic and slightly irritated that the boy's father was taking up so much of their conversation. "Gradually and into the surrounding land, building some kind of…settlement." She fixed him with a significant look. "Now, to the matter at hand." She drew herself up to her full height and held out the document in her hand. "You wish to inspect it further? What you can _read of it_?"

Despite himself, Jason felt his face burn. His thoughts were spinning. There were a thousand eloquent, witty and pithy accusations that he only _wished_ he had the presence of mind to hurl at her, to unseat her from her stronghold. But he didn't because the only one that kept bubbling to the surface was that _it wasn't fair_! And that made him sound as young and as petulant as his mother seemed to think he was. So he clamped his mouth shut until he could think of any other response.

"How long does this arrangement last?" he asked, willing his voice not to tremble.

"One year." Her eyes were softer then, her expression more genuine. "Though, I would naturally hope that, given time, you would not see it as an _arrangement_… but that it might be something you come to _want_, for yourself." Her voice was imploring and Jason couldn't help but see the woman who longed to be his mother, warring with the queen who needed him for…he wasn't sure what. He cast his gaze down, not happy but nor quite so angry.

"_One year_," he repeated, softly, almost to himself. "And Hercules would be free?" He held her gaze, firmly. "You aren't _lying_ about that? No repercussions? Nothing that will come for him or anyone else I care about, later, after I'd accepted?"

Pasiphae narrowed her eyes. "I do not _lie_ to you," she replied, "though goodness knows I would like to instruct you in some _manners_ and how you address your _parents_, much less your queen." Jason visibly bristled and she sighed, understanding that this was not the time to engage in hostilities. In calmer tones, she continued. "Yes, your friend would be released without harm and without undergoing the trials. Though," she added, sharply, "if he were to ever _repeat_ such actions, there will be no such future arrangements and that must be made clear to him."

Jason nodded. No matter the cost to him, the deal was a fortunate one and not something his mother had been obliged to make. "I understand." He sighed, bitterness and apprehension coursing through him. "So is this the extent of my freedom for the next year?" he asked, quietly. "Three days of _your_ bidding, three of my _own_ and one of my _father's_. I don't get to decide for myself?"

"You may _decide_ to accept the arrangement or reject it," Pasiphae countered, evenly. "_That_ is your free will in this instance. Use it wisely." Her son's eyes shone brightly and Pasiphae's heart clenched. Was so it _so_ terrible an offer? He would be happy. Why could he not see that? Why was it so painful to be allowed to love him?

"And if I later…_went back_ on our agreement? If I stayed away too long? Beyond my three days? Would I be arrested?" He stopped a moment, face paling: "_Executed_?"

Pasiphae rolled her eyes. "You would be _brought home_," she clarified. "And as someone who I _believe_ has been raised with honour, I do not believe your own conscience would allow you to renege on your word, or on any _just_ repercussions for your actions."

From the courtyard outside, the drums began to beat: steady, rhythmic. They were preparing the procession, the walk that would take Hercules down to the shoreline. Hercules himself would be prepared soon – readied for his ordeal. It was a _toll_, a march, a sentence to be passed, the lap of the gods, flip of a coin: was _this_ to be Hercules' fate? To drown beneath the unforgiving waves, a millstone weighted round his neck? For the sake of one year? Jason stood: he listened to the pounding outside, he listened to the pounding of his heart and then, in his head, he heard the gates groan shut.

"Give me the document," he said, quietly. Reaching out one hand, he watched as Pasiphae smoothly glided towards him and placed it in his grasp. She was calm, smiling gently. She ushered him to the table where it could be spread out, she placed a warm hand on his arm as he signed his name and when it was done, she took it from him, rolled it up, handed it back to him and then ran a motherly hand through his brown curls.

"There now," she soothed. "Was that so hard?"

Jason's arms trembled slightly though, oddly, he did not jerk away from her soothing fingers. He looked down – he could not look at her. "I want to see Hercules," he ground out though it came out sounding more like a plea than the demand he had been aiming for.

"Of course," the queen agreed. "I shall send word immediately that he is to be released, unharmed." She paused. "It would not be proper for you to be seen in the palace jails at this time. Why don't you wait for him at home? I'm sure he won't be long." Her son nodded, mutely and she ran her hand down his head until it came to rest on his shoulder. She was so close to him that he could smell her delicately fragranced perfume. It bore a resemblance to Ariadne's but was more muted, less sweet.

"You will need some time, no doubt, to get your affairs in order. Time to prepare. I know this will be an adjustment for you – for all of us. But we shall meet it together." He slowly turned his head to the side and his eyes met hers: so angry and so scared. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze: comforting; _commanding_. "Today is Poseidon's day. A day for rest, for honour and reflection. It seems…_fitting_ for our new venture. So take this day as the first of your three. Use these three days to prepare yourself and be at the palace gates by the midday on the fourth."

To have the situation put into terms that could be quantified, to have a boundary to fit the chaos and uncertainty into, actually helped a little. The young man nodded once more and then took a step away. Pasiphae let her hand slide gracefully back to rest at her side. For just a moment, Jason missed her touch. "I will. Thank you." He added. It was a strangled addition but it was honest. How much of Pasiphae's speech was genuine and how much was what he needed to hear? Jason didn't know. But regardless, she had spared the life of his friend and whatever the final cost, Jason would always be grateful for that.

"Jason?"

He turned to her, almost to the door.

"I promise you will be happy. You will see. There is so much we can learn from each other."

He didn't answer her. He couldn't. What did you say to that? He turned and left, heading home, to his friends and to the last three days as he had known them in this city that he had come to call home.

* * *

That's it for now! If you've made it down this far, thanks for sticking with it and *please* drop me a line to say what you thought – I really do appreciate your feedback.


	11. Chapter 11

**Fortune's Fool - Chapter 11**

**Standard Disclaimer still applies…ya-de-yada…**

Thank you all SO much for your really kind feedback. I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

It was funny, Jason thought: when he had left his house that day, intent on coming to the palace and freeing his friend, he had fully expected to march triumphantly back through that door, Hercules by his side and both of them celebrating rather merrily. He had pictured the look of relief and wonder on Pythagoras' face and how the young man would have tried to wrap his skinny arms around the substantial circumference of Hercules, probably failing miserably. Hercules would have been embarrassed. Jason would have laughed.

But it wasn't to be. Even now, Jason began to feel like an intruder on his own life: a stranger knocking at the door. He'd spent a lifetime of pulling up roots and had been under the wonderful illusion that those times were behind him. And here they were again – stretching out a winding path before him. And so Jason hadn't returned to their house: not yet. Pythagoras would have questions that Jason couldn't bring himself to answer: just another hour, that's all he wanted. An hour to gather his thoughts and to lock away the ones that were trying to hurt him.

When he left the palace, he had immediately entered a building opposite and climbed to the roof. There he had sat, concealed and watching. It wasn't long before he saw what he was waiting for. A weary, confused and yet mightily relieved Hercules was escorted from the palace. The man had briefly looked about him, presumably hoping to see a friend – someone to meet him. His ordeal had shaken him: the signs were small but Jason could see them.

Guilt stabbed at the young man as he watched his friend's moment of silent confusion. He almost called out across the street to him. But having secreted himself away on the roof of a building, Jason suddenly thought better of drawing that kind of attention. But Hercules would not be cowed for long and set off at a trot, back towards their home.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief, immensely glad that Pythagoras' worry would soon be over. Then he sat back, wearily against the low stone wall of the flat roof. Pasiphae had given him the document to take away and Jason now unrolled it and stared, incomprehensibly at the markings upon it. How fitting it was, he thought bitterly, that he should hold his fate in his hands and be too _stupid_ to read it. Tears stung his eyes and before he could banish them, had already spilled over onto his cheeks, tracing a dusty path. Furiously, Jason swiped them away. Crying never helped him in the past. And who was going to care about it now?

For a moment longer, Jason stared, unseeing across the city, letting his solitude envelope him. And then the moment was over and Jason took a steadying breath, climbed to his feet and went home, where his heart told him he truly belonged.

* * *

At her own small alter in the chambers she shared with her husband, Pasiphae rose to her feet having made her private offering to Poseidon. This truly had been a bountiful day, full of the god's blessings and she smiled at the future possibilities that ran through her head. Minos had been…accepting of the news. He wasn't exactly thrilled but he made it plain that Jason was welcome and that he was glad, _for her_, that the boy had accepted her offer. The queen idly found herself hoping that her husband treated his step-son with more care than she treated her step-daughter.

As Pasiphae stepped out into the passage way, her thoughts turned to performing her duties by Minos' side, at the city's ceremony at the Temple, later that day. However, the sudden slamming of a door up ahead of her and the sound of hurrying footsteps made her stop. It took her a moment longer to realise the door had been to Ariadne's room and indeed, the girl herself almost flung herself around the corner as she hurried. She was brought up short however, seeing Pasiphae in her path.

"Ariadne?" the queen asked. "Is everything alright?" The girl's face was ashen, her large eyes shining with tears but when she saw the queen, she twisted her misery into righteous bitterness. The princess did not answer her step-mother, even with a retort. In fact, as she fought back her tears, she could barely look at her.

Understanding suddenly dawned on the queen and she tried very hard not to smirk or laugh, cruelly. Minos had told his daughter, then. She felt her own disappointment keenly. Now that Jason had acknowledged his heritage she had _so_ wanted to be the one to tell the girl: to inform the princess that her beloved Jason had belonged to _her_ first.

But no matter: her reaction, even now, was still palpable enough. "I see Minos has told you the truth." She kept her tone soft and kind. Her eyes were gentle though Pasiphae supposed the curve of her smile would always be faintly mocking: there were some things she just couldn't help. But she would not deliberately rile Minos' daughter. It was safer in the long run and, in this instance, far sweeter this way.

"I am sorry this was kept from you. But you can see how important it was that Jason come to terms with this news first?" She took a step forward and, taking advantage of the girl's shock, placed a light hand on her arm. "And think how happy you will be, now that you may see him every day. Under supervision, of course." She smiled again and Ariadne suddenly seemed to regain her senses and looked up, sharply. Anger pushed aside her pain as she stepped out of the queen's reach.

"He is your son?" she demanded. Her eyes may be angry but her voice still trembled. The girl shook her head, disbelieving. Pasiphae regarded her coolly and, for a moment, felt a pang of regret for the boy.

"I can see this is a shock," she allowed. "Perhaps you no longer wish to know him? I can see to it that your paths do not cross." She watched the girl stiffen with anger, even as a desperate look flashed across her face. Her step-mother tried hard not to relish the power. "No?" she asked, guilelessly. "Then I'm sure we have much to look forward to. Though you must understand: Jason's duties will be first and foremost to his family and to his king."

Ariadne pressed her lips tightly together, raised her chin high and took a measured step forwards. "You need not remind me about _duty_," she informed her, primly. "I cannot blame Jason for his parentage: it is a testament to his honour and worth that he has risen above it." The girl watched her step-mother's eye twitch and almost crowed with satisfaction.

"In fact, do you know what I find _truly_ amusing? That _I_ had an instinct for his true worth from the moment I first saw him. And _you_, his mother, had none." Ariadne's lips had twisted into a sweet, mocking smile, worthy of Pasiphae herself. "And now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for the celebrations in the temple." She bobbed her head towards the queen.

Pasiphae's jaw worked silently as she clenched her teeth together and watched the princess turn on one foot and disappear along the passageway.

* * *

Jason opened the door quietly and smiled when he looked inside. Pythagoras' neat and tidy house looked in decidedly more disarray with cups of wine on the table, empty skeins lying off to one side and piles of fruits and breads on plates, lying randomly about the room. The sound of deep, raucous laughter reverberated around their modest living space and flooded into Jason's heart. His smile broke in to a grin.

"I thought we were saving this stuff," Jason pointed out, as he made his presence known. Immediately, the voices stopped and his two friends emerged from the balcony.

"Jason!" Pythagoras almost shrieked. He'd had a bit to drink, Jason observed with some amusement, looking at the young man's suddenly ruddy complexion. And in quite a short space of time, too. Pythagoras launched at him, causing Jason to stagger back ever so slightly. He chuckled as he returned the hug, relishing the connection even as he didn't have to admit why.

"He's back!" Pythagoras exclaimed, beaming. "He came back about an hour ago." A puzzled look fleeted across his face. "I was surprised you weren't with him, actually." Jason just smiled, hoping Pythagoras' slightly merrier disposition would save him from an actual response. Instead, he clapped his friend warmly on the shoulder and carefully stepped around him, saying:

"I can see that." Hercules stood in the centre of the room and Jason couldn't help but note how the room suddenly looked _complete_. He had obviously been indulging in some well-deserved wine but clearly held it with much greater practice. The older man was looking at Jason with strange mixture of fondness, amusement and sadness. "Hi Hercules," Jason greeted, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Jason," he nodded. His eyes twinkled. "Pythagoras has filled me in on what's been going on." One bushy eyebrow raised, speculatively. "Sounds like you've been busy." He levelled a mock glare at the boy and pointed a wine cup at him. "You've not been getting into trouble, I hope."

Jason grinned. "Not without you."

"That's my boy!" Hercules suddenly chuckled and held out one arm. Jason didn't even think about it: he crossed the room and ducked under his friend's outstretched arm, wrapping his arms around the meaty man's chest and squeezing the life out of him as Hercules wrapped an arm about his shoulders and pulled Jason in towards him.

Hercules closed his eyes as he held him for just a moment longer. "Thanks, Jason," he whispered against his head. And then he released him. "You need a drink!" he exclaimed, loudly. Jason stepped away, secretly feeling a little colder without the warmth his friends offered.

"If there's any left," he teased them. Then he turned a slightly accusatory look to Pythagoras. "I thought you told me to guard that with my life! That it was strictly for rituals?" Hercules promptly thrust a wine glass into his hand which he accepted, gratefully. But Pythagoras joined them, shaking his blonde head emphatically.

"Oh no," he insisted. "This isn't the special wine. That's for giving thanks to Poseidon and we wouldn't do that without you." Jason widened his eyes a little in surprise, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. They had waited for him? Even though he'd been gone so long? Pythagoras smiled, warmly at him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "We have so much to be thankful to Poseidon for…and to you. Thank you, Jason." Jason couldn't speak – he didn't trust his voice not to falter or his tears not to fall. He had spent the walk back to their house, building a dam to hold them back.

It would be just typical that Pythagoras would find a way to break through his defences after just five minutes. So, to distract himself, Jason took a long swig of his wine, only to start coughing and spluttering as it went down the wrong way. His friends laughed as Pythagoras quickly took his cup from him and set it down on the floor and Hercules thumped him on the back. Jason didn't mind their gentle mockery: it kept up the distraction.

Absently, Pythagoras picked up a chunk of cake from one of the nearby bowls and started to tear bits off, stuffing them into his mouth one at a time. Jason couldn't help but think his young friend had the munchies and probably wasn't very used to the sensation.

"Come, my friends!" Hercules suddenly announced, throwing both hands into the air. "Now, we feast!"

Jason glanced around the room at the scattered bowls and plates and gave a wry grin.

"Do we just graze from plate to plate?" he wondered.

It hadn't been that funny but Pythagoras suddenly snorted with laughter, sending crumbs spraying over the room. Hercules just rolled his eyes, the picture of exasperated tolerance and this time, moved to thump the mathematician between the shoulder blades.

"Honestly," he exclaimed. "I can't take the two of you anywhere." He aimed for mock severity but as Jason reflexively burst out laughing at his blonde friend, Pythagoras couldn't help but join in and soon, fuelled by the other's irrational fits of uncontrollable giggles, both Jason and Pythagoras were practically doubled over laughing, gripping each other's arms for support. Hercules broke out into his own indulgent smile, shaking his head fondly at the two boys who were both trying desperately to calm themselves and failing miserably every time they caught each other's eyes.

"Come on then, you two," he said, guiding them both to the table with a gentle hand on a shoulder of each of them. "I'll bring out the meat and the ritual wine. You just sit there and calm your hysterics. I tell you, it's a good job I'm back because the two of you wouldn't last a day without me!"

And so, the larger man deposited them onto one of the wooden benches, muttering a quiet: "_Children_!" as he cleared the table of the used drinking vessels went to fetch the plates of roasted meat and the jugs of wine. As he moved away, Jason folded his arms on the table and leaned forwards, taking deep, slow breaths. God, his face ached from smiling so much but it felt so _good_. Beside him, Pythagoras was trying hard to slow his breathing but it still came out in hitches, his bony shoulders silently shaking.

They both jumped when Hercules retuned and deposited the meal on the table, returning after a moment to place the wine jug and three cups. Jason glanced up and looked at them: he hadn't seen the cups before – they looked more expensive than their usual earthenware. It was as though the solemnity of the occasion immediately sobered Pythagoras – or at least stemmed the last of the fits of hysterics. He beamed, warmly at both Jason and Hercules, who had come to sit on the bench opposite.

Silently, their older friend carved the meat and divided it amongst them with more measure and purpose than Jason would have thought he was capable of. Perhaps, he mused, Hercules' confinement alone had brought with it a greater sense of occasion? They spent the next few minutes passing various plates and dishes to each other with just the occasional murmur of _'Thank-you'_, until all their plates were filled. Jason eyed his own stack and absently felt his stomach knot itself, tightly.

Pythagoras poured the wine with surprisingly steady hands but not without a conspiratorial grin at Jason. Jason raised one eyebrow at him, in silent appreciation. Once their cups were full, Pythagoras rose to his feet and held up his cup. Jason wasn't sure if they were _all_ meant to stand but as Hercules didn't, he followed the big man's example.

He listened, slightly in awe of the dignified but heartfelt feeling Pythagoras demonstrated in his words, his voice and his body-language as his genius friend recited oaths and prayers by heart and gave thanks and dedications to Poseidon. Hercules bowed his head and murmured something of his own, quietly, under his breath. Jason didn't understand their rites but nor did he feel left out. He felt included right to the heart of everything.

Jason suddenly realised that the other two were taking a drink of their wine and he hurriedly did the same. Pythagoras smiled at him as he sat down again.

As they started to eat, the conversation flowed easily between the three friends. They didn't really touch on Hercules' ordeal, sensing this was not the time for it, but nor did it feel like an uncomfortable topic. Instead, they just enjoyed each other's company while Hercules ate ravenously. He occasionally helped out Jason, who struggled to clear his own plate while still ensuring the young man ate enough to satisfy the demands he habitually placed on the boy's eating habits.

As the last of the food was eagerly tucked away, Pythagoras gently cleared his throat. "I just wanted to add," his young, blonde friend said, almost timidly, "what I'm grateful for."

He took a deep breath and looked with such love and affection at Hercules and Jason that even Hercules could not be sarcastic and dismissive about it. "I'm thankful for _us_," Pythagoras stated. "I know we've all had our ups and downs and will no doubt continue to do so." Hercules gave a short laugh and Jason a crooked, bashful smile. "But," Pythagoras said, "I feel so blessed, knowing we will be facing them together. You two, no matter how much I may nag and fuss from time to time, are the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. We are family and I am very proud to be counted amongst your number."

Hercules cleared his throat suddenly, choking down a suspiciously sounding lump. "You're a good man, Pythagoras," he said, quietly. "You bore me senseless when you talk about triangles and you're no use whatsoever as a drinking companion…but for all that, I wouldn't be without you." He leaned across the table and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Pythagoras beamed at him, his eyes shining.

Then Hercules turned to a slightly dumbfounded Jason. The boy had practically done nothing but gape since Pythagoras had started speaking. "And _you_," Hercules announced with gruff affection. Jason widened his eyes slightly as he looked over at the semi-mocking menacing look he was being sent. A finger was jammed his way. "I swear you give me grey hairs before my time and every time you run off and do something stupid, I have to sit on my hands to stop myself clouting you round the ear."

Jason glanced down at the table top, his face tingeing pink with embarrassment but he gave a small smile nonetheless. Pythagoras also chuckled, quietly.

"That being said," Hercules continued, affection melting his abrupt words, "you're the most welcome headache I've known. And besides," he added, ruefully, "I can't keep doing that."

Jason suddenly grinned, impishly at him. "I know. You'd cut all circulation off in your hands."

"Hey!" Hercules protested, an amused yet affronted look spreading over his face. Without warning, he leant across the table and delivered Jason a light clip round the ear and, after a moment of surprise, made Jason burst out laughing.

Pythagoras sighed. "Hercules," he admonished, wearily. "You can't hit people during a feast of thanks."

But Hercules just raised a hand in defence as Jason continued to chuckle to himself.

"I can hit _him_," he clarified, "because he's cheeky." Pythagoras just shook his head but a smile was firmly planted on his own lips as he watched his two friends and their playful banter.

"_Anyway_," Hercules continued, "I was _going_ to say…" and here he paused and looked a little more abashed, glancing between his two friends with a knowing smile of his own: "that I've been known to run off and do some pretty stupid things myself from time to time. _Rarely_, though. _Very rarely_." He placed a warm hand on Jason's forearm. "But I happen to have some very good friends who always find a way to help me out."

Jason gave the hand on his arm a quick squeeze and looked down at the table, his own emotions stirring dangerously. He felt accepted and wanted and a part of such a special friendship that he didn't, at that point and around that table, think he would ever feel so _complete_ again. _This_ was a home, the boy realised. No. Not _a_ home. _Just home_. This was _his_ home.

Tears stung his eyes. On the pretence of picking something up that had fallen to the floor, Jason bent down to briefly hide the pain on his face. It wasn't fair to spoil this special moment for his friends. As he leant down, the sharp edges from the rolled document that he had stuffed down the front of his tunic, cut into his stomach. His breath hitched sharply in his throat. _This_ was his home and he didn't want to leave it.

Quickly, aware that he had been doubled over for too long, Jason straightened and prayed his face would not betray him. He _would_ tell his friends. He _would_, even though he felt the cowardice in his delay like a knife in his chest. But they were so happy – _so_ happy. And so was he. So couldn't he, just for one meal, pretend that everything was fine? That everything was normal? And then let reality creep up on them after dinner.

"Jason?" Hercules asked, his voice suddenly soft and quiet. "You alright?"

"Fine," Jason answered, perhaps a little too quickly. Hercules narrowed his eyes and looked a little oddly at him for a moment longer. Jason tried not to shuffle under his scrutiny. However, he simply nodded at Jason's insistence and seemingly let the matter drop. If Pythagoras noticed anything amiss, he made no indication of it. Instead, his young friend was looking at him with an air of expectation and suddenly Jason felt a rock form in the back of his throat.

What could he say? What was he meant to say to them now when it all felt like lies and trickery? _You guys are the only family I've truly felt like I belong with and I never want to leave this place. But I'm going to do it anyway. _Jason felt his chest and throat seize up and his gaze shot down to the table.

"Jason?" Pythagoras asked, kindly. He turned more squarely to look at his friend.

_Oh God_, thought Jason, panic gripping him as the treacherous tears welled up in his eyes. If he made him speak, he would cry.

"The lad's tired," they suddenly heard Hercules cut in. "You've obviously pushed yourself too hard these last couple of days." Jason didn't dare look up – he couldn't. "Isn't that right, Jason?" the older man pushed, his voice a mixture of suspicion, gruffness and gentleness. Quickly, mutely, Jason gave a rapid nod, hazel eyes still downcast. He tried to turn his head away from Pythagoras' searching look. His arms were trembling and he bit down hard on his lip, pressing them tightly together, desperate to suppress the sob that was aching to wrack its way through his body.

"Time for bed then, Jason," Hercules announced, quietly. "You'll feel better after a nap."

Jason's throat was burning from the exertion of holding back his tears. He gave a quick nod and all but fell backwards off the stool in his scramble to stand. Then he retreated to his room, trying ever so hard not to run.

Pythagoras stared after him with a puzzled look, a question hanging on his opened mouth. But once again, his burly friend spoke up. "It's been a long day," he reminded him. "Don't worry. Why don't you lie down, too?" He watched the boy begin to argue. "Sleep now," he pointed out, "and it'll help with the headache later."

For a second, a different question formed on Pythagoras' face before an embarrassed look of understanding dawned on him. He grinned, sheepishly at Hercules. "I bow to your greater experience."

Hercules gave a small laugh. "About time, too. Now off with you."

Lazily, Pythagoras rose to his feet and glanced down at the empty bowls and plates, eyeing them wearily. Sensing where his thoughts were going, Hercules shook his head. "They'll keep," he insisted. "And you'd probably drop them all anyway."

Pythagoras was suddenly too tired to be offended. But even as he moved sluggishly to his bed, he turned back towards his friend. "Will you be alright?" he asked almost scared that the older man would disappear again while he was sleeping. Seeing the insecurity in the boy's eyes, Hercules resisted a sarcastic remark. A sliver of guilt wove its way into his broad chest.

"I'll be fine," he assured him. "I could do with a little peace and quiet." He gave him one last smile before Pythagoras seemed to accept his words and shuffled off to his bed. A moment later, Hercules heard a loud _flump_ as the inebriated boy flopped face-first onto his mattress. He smirked, knowing the sound of soft, gentle snoring would not be far behind.

He stood and stretched and took a moment to look around his house in its peaceful stillness. It was _so_ good to be home, home amongst these two who made him feel as though he had a _purpose_ again in life. His entire youth had been a lie; his adulthood, a disappointment: one tall tale after the next. He had been on so many amazing adventures in his mind, had faced so many perilous challenges of figments and tall talk. But, he realised with a bitter yet affectionate sigh, this was his greatest feat of all. His grandest adventure: steering these two lovable yet utterly frustrating boys through their day-to-day lives. Struggling to keep up with their insatiable energy.

Hercules gathered up the plates and dishes and dumped them, not especially carefully, in a bowl of water, on the floor. He had no intention of washing them but the table looked clear and that made the house look a little more orderly.

Then, drying his hands on his tunic, Hercules quietly made his way to Pythagoras' room, smiling when he saw the sleeping young man, sprawled out on the bed. He gently pulled a blanket over him and left him to his mellow slumber.

Hercules shook his head in fondness at the lightweight before turning wary eyes to where his other young charge resided. He took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. It wouldn't be the sounds of gentle snoring that came from Jason's room, he knew.

With measured, soft steps Hercules approached the boy's room, hovered for just a second outside the doorway and then went inside. The light was softened as a curtain had been drawn across the window. In any event, even without the curtain, the evening light was paling the day's brightness so that the figure lying with his back to the door, was half-cast in silhouette. But as Hercules watched, he could clearly see his still too thin frame shaking with sobs. Hercules pursed his lips in surprise. He would have expected to _hear_ the lad crying, given the intensity of his shaking. He stepped to the head of the bed and sat down gently next to him on the mattress. Jason flinched but he didn't turn to him. The boy just buried his head to his chin and when Hercules looked closely, he saw the balled up tunic that had been stuffed into his mouth: muting the sound of his crying.

Something inside of Hercules died. Just a _little_ something – something he would probably never miss. But a _something _all the same: it went away, probably to that same place where a tiny part of Jason had gone to as well. _Damn it_, but there were days when the older man could really do without those years of experience and all the pain that knowledge can bring.

He placed a firm yet soft hand on Jason's back and felt the tremors beneath it. Slowly, purposefully, he began to rub large circles. Jason wept even harder and Hercules carefully leaned over to where his hands clutched at the cloth in his mouth and firmly tugged it away from him, releasing the sound of the boy's wretched sobbing.

"It's alright, Jason," he murmured quietly. "Pythagoras is fast asleep. You can let it out." For a second, he thought he saw Jason pause, consider and then nod. But then again, maybe he just imagined it. But nor had he been turned away. So Hercules remained. He carefully took him by the shoulders and rolled Jason to face him. Jason didn't resist. And so Hercules lifted his head and shoulders into his lap and gently carded his hand through the mop of unruly dark curls.

"You're going to have to tell us," he told the young man. "But not right now. For right now, you just cry lad." He leaned down and whispered into Jason's ear. "That's it. You just cry."

And as Jason continued to do just that: he wasn't even sure what he was crying for: his friends; his father; the rollercoaster of his life. Hercules held him and rocked him and closed his own eyes against a day that was obviously set to test them all in more ways than they had imagined.

* * *

Ok – one more chapter to go! Thanks for reading down this far – if you have a second to drop me a couple of words, I *really* appreciate them.


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